Silver Shoes and Orange Dolls
by Spooky4ever
Summary: What's a girl to do when she's being hunted by rats in a doomed kingdom with her only savior a twice cursed nutcracker? Good thing Rukia isn't your average royal and neither is Ichigo. A Christmas AU with a Nutcracker twist and some IchiRuki flavoring
1. Act I: The Christmas Party

**Disclaimer: **I forgot to add Bleach to my Christmas list, so that would be a no for this year. Maybe next time...

**Rating: **Is teen to be safe. Not expecting any execessive language or violence here, but it is only the first chapter.

**Characters/Pairings: **IchiRuki, one-sided RenRuki, other minor pairings may/may not be announced as the story progresses. Most characters will be used, though I can't promise the Vizoreds or all the captains.

**AN: **Woot! First Bleach fic! I'm ridiculously excited. If forwhatver reason you did not notice, this Christmas AU is a crossover with the lovely ballet, _The Nutcracker. _For those major ballet fans out there, I will try to do the Nutcracker portion some justice, but eventually the story will diverge more towards the Bleach storyline then Act II of the Nutcracker (sorry, can't write about them dancing the whole time now). The title I'm a little iffy on, so if anyone has any better suggestions I'm all ears. I've reread this story a dozen times, nitpicked it to death, and must sadly report I've probably still missed stuff, so I apologize for any mistakes. For now though, I finally present:

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_Silver Shoes and Orange Dolls_

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_Once upon a time there was a girl in a cage, a mysterious toymaker, and an unknown force at work..._

Act I: The Christmas Party

"Kuchiki-san, are you ready yet?" a maid, Momo Hinamori, timidly rapped on the solid oak door. She shifted from foot to foot in a worried manner. The party would commence soon, and Kuchiki-sama would be most displeased if his little sister arrived late. The young maid, only a teen of about seventeen, didn't think the nobleman would fire her, but she truly could not risk her job. Smoothing out the wrinkles of her black skirt, Hinamori took a breath to steel her patience, and raised a tiny hand to knock again. The door suddenly swung open, revealing the current source of Momo's troubles, Byakuya Kuchiki's younger sister: Rukia, her raven black hair uncombed and still clothed in a stable boys worn trousers and an oversized shirt.

Goodness she didn't even look like a _lady,_ much less _presentable_.

"Kuchiki-san!" Hinamori squawked in horror, "you're not even _dressed_?!" The teenager looked down at her horribly casual apparel in disinterest, shrugging her shoulders uselessly. Momo knew better then to waste her breath lecturing Rukia about her wear, the girl had obviously been out riding earlier and couldn't have been bothered with proper, ladylike attire. Her dislike for dresses, especially when house back riding, was well known inside the manors walls.

"So I am not," Rukia replied loftily. Momo quickly pushed her way into Rukia's grand bedroom, hurriedly tugging the girl along side her. Rukia daintily perched herself on the seated window ledge of her room, dully watching the snowfall outside as her maid frantically flung dresses unto the plush bed.

"Goodness Kuchiki-san! Why are you being so difficult? I…I thought you liked Christmas! To hear that Kuchiki-sama was once again throwing the annual ball I thought you would be happy!" the maid huffed in despair, almond brown eyes glancing almost sadly at the dark haired girl across the room.

Rukia pulled her attention away from the winter wonderland outside her window to glance at Momo. Rukia felt a stab of regret for her childish behavior as she took in her flustered maid: eyes frantic, her usually neat hair falling sloppily out of her bun. The poor girl was ready to have a heart attack.

Rukia liked Momo; they were about the same age and out of all the maids employed at their mansion Momo was the only one who tried to understand her as Rukia the Girl and not Rukia the Grand Duchess. They had even grown up together for the most part. Byakuya had employed her when Rukia was around five; he had wanted Rukia to retain their Japanese heritage and felt having an actual companion who hailed from the Asian land would somehow help that. (In way it did, Momo certainly helped her pass the Japanese language courses Byakuya made her take…)

Honestly the dark haired girl hadn't meant to stay out so late, she really did lose track of the time. The building frustration she had felt since the party's first announcement, just last month actually, had finally reached its apex on the eve the party. So between the hustle and bustle of frantic cooks, maids, and butlers, Rukia slipped out to the stables shortly after breakfast with no plans to return till dusk. Actually, Rukia stood from her perch and calmly strode over to Hinamori, it was lucky she had decided to return early or her dear maid would have positively keeled over.

"I am sorry Hinamori-san," Rukia apologized as she snatched a dress from her closet. "I did not mean to lose track of time. It was purely accidental this time." This time referring to all the _other _instances when Rukia purposefully arrived late for a ball. She inspected the dress with indifference before tossing it with the other rejects. After a few more minutes of rummaging she finally located the exact gown her brother had picked out for tonight.

"This is so pretty Kuchiki-san!" Momo cooed and awed as she wrestled it from its hanger. Rukia couldn't help but smirk a little. Her brother did admittedly have excellent taste in women's clothing. She wondered if that had anything to do with her sister's touch or his remarkably stiff and fashionable upbringing. The girl's thoughts were interrupted as Momo hastily began to tug off her dirty clothes, nose wrinkling in distaste as she threw them in a corner.

The youngest Kuchiki remained silent as Hinamori helped her dress, only briefly protesting once when the young maid tugged her corset especially tight ("I'm sorry Kuchiki-san! If only your bust was a little bigger then I wouldn't half to lace it up so tight!"). Finally, after wrestling her way into the bulky evening dress, Rukia found herself seated as Momo fussed with her hair.

"Pardon if I am overstepping my bounds Kuchiki-san, but you don't seem very excited about the party. I thought you always enjoyed the Christmas ball as a child…" Rukia sighed, or well, tried to with the corset so tight, she figured Momo wouldn't let the question slide by gracefully.

"Tell me Hinamori-san, why do you think Nii-sama has decided to resume holding the ball after all these years?" Rukia asked icily. She inwardly winced, she hadn't meant to come off so cold, but her brother's reasoning infuriated her so. The ball had been Hisana's thing, something to celebrate her favorite holiday with all the cheer, and warmth, and splendor the Kuchiki fortune could afford. It had been an extravagant Christmas tradition for the family and its high society friends, right up until Hisana's death. Afterwards it simply had not been the same without her sisters glowing joyful presence, and not even Rukia questioned her brother when he announced they would no longer hold a ball.

Until this year that is.

Predictably, Hinamori answered, albeit rather hesitantly, that Byakuya was holding it to uphold Hisana's memory, deciding it was best to continue the tradition rather then let it fade. If the maid had not been busy gathering her short hair, which usually hung stubbornly around the nape of her neck, Rukia would have shook her head at Momo's naivety.

"If only it was that honorable," the dark haired teen scoffed. "Nii-sama may say that is his reasoning, but really he is only trying to find me a proper suitor." The word left a horrible taste in her mouth. Suitor. Husband.

Her brother had extended invitations to numerous dukes and lords, it was only expected after all, but she had not failed to notice exactly how many of them had rich bachelor sons (or were bachelors themselves) all hopeful for a high society wife. The very thought sickened her. And to make the situation even worse, Byakuya knew that she knew of his intentions, hence the extravagant gown and the cold reminders he gave her this past week. Missing this ball would be a big mistake on her part, especially in her brother's eyes.

"But don't you want to get married Kuchiki-san? To ensure a secure future with a rich and able husband…I hear the Count Iba is quite the looker," Hinamori said with faux cheer. Rukia lifted a slim, skeptical eyebrow at her friend, smirking knowingly when Momo's enthusiasm deflated. "Right, that haircut is rather ridiculous," she murmured.

Rukia knew that it was only a matter of time before her brother began to push the subject on her. After all, her coming out party was coming up soon, and once she was the proper age (seventeen) society would deem it suitable for her to begin courting. Byakuya would of course ensure that she entered a proper, wealthy family; someone with royal ties like the Kuchiki. She knew her dear brother only wanted to secure her a safe and reliable future, but in truth, it wasn't what _she _wanted.

"Ah! What about the Duke of Westminster, Kyoraku-san? I hear he is a very wealthy and influential man," Momo suggested eagerly.

"I suppose that would be a fetching match, if he wasn't such an old womanizer," Rukia retorted smartly. Momo clucked her tongue in disapproval, though Rukia wasn't sure if it was over her remark or the stubborn bang that refused to be pulled back from the bridge of her nose.

"True," Momo sighed, "but he is only in his late thirties, and still so handsome." Seemingly satisfied with the result of her labors, the girl sat down the ivory combs and went to work lightly applying make-up. They briefly lapsed into silence, allowing Rukia's troubling thoughts to stir.

She wasn't meant for this life: fluttering about with the high class ladies, learning music and art, always being so prim and proper for society. Rukia had been adopted into nobility as an infant (something she knew she should be eternally grateful for) when her sister married the Grand Duke Byakuya Kuchiki. In reality, she had a hard time appreciating it. Rukia immensely disliked the chains that this aristocratic lifestyle required of her, and never found herself quiet able to fit in.

However, she carried the Kuchiki name, raised by their wealth and prestige. Rukia knew Byakuya faced terrible scandal when he brought home a foreign peasant girl to marry with a tiny babe in tow. If marrying herself off could somehow help him well then…

"Finite! Oh Kuchiki-san you look _beautiful_," Momo breathed in admiration.

The girl finally turned and fully viewed her reflection. The image gazing back at her was petite in statue, unusually tiny for her age. Clinging to her curvy slender frame was a gorgeous silky evening gown, crème in color with golden flower trim along the bottom and intricately designed on the bodice. It was square necked, showing off a generous amount of pale white shoulder, neck, and back, but cut so only the tops of her very pushed up breasts were exposed; its puffy sleeves hung off her slender shoulders. The skirt of the dress was flared out like the current style required, completely hiding her legs and her feet. To complete the dress a white sash was tied around her waist and formed into a neat, pert bow on her back.

The dress was indeed very beautiful, custom made especially for her small size, as most full length evening gowns swallowed her whole. Hinamori, who had given up on taming Rukia's short hair, had pinned it up in a neat bun held together with a silver butterfly clip, a long favorite gift from her sister, with her one black bang still resting across the bridge of her nose. Momo had done well to apply very little make-up, just some rouge to give her pale face the slightest of color, added a smidge of redness to her lips, and some charcoal around the eyes to make her strange, amethyst iris' even brighter. Rukia was a little surprised the maid even bothered to apply make-up, both knew very well some of the ladies downstairs would be flabbergasted to see something so _improper_, but she approved nevertheless.

Rukia was almost taken aback by her reflection. She was aware that she was rather attractive, but to see this breathtaking _woman_ gazing back at her under dark lashes and in expensive silk…she hardly recognized herself.

_Pretty, perfect bait for all the hungry rats_, she thought bitterly.

"Come along Kuchiki-san! The party began a few minutes ago! We shouldn't keep your escort waiting any longer!" Momo gently prodded her away from the mirror. Shaking the gloom from her thoughts, Rukia snatched her white gloves from the vanity and dutifully followed Momo from the quiet solitude of her room.

_I can do this._ She took a steady breath, ignoring how the corset pinched her ribs and seemingly worsened the pit in her stomach.

When she exhaled, Rukia Kuchiki, the Ice Grand Duchess of England, elegantly stepped forward, and strode towards the waiting guests.

_I must._

* * *

The ball room was exquisitely decorated for the Christmas season. Poinsettia's and candles adorned every frost covered window; bright red bows tied back the heavy curtains. There was an explosion of tinsel, and beads, and wreathes everywhere, all tastily matching the marble floors, ivory laced mirrors, and oil-paint family portraits. In the far right corner a pianist spun music from the lovely cherry wood piano with the accompaniment of his fellow musicians, adding familiar holiday tunes to the festive atmosphere for the dancers. Opposite of them towered the great evergreen Christmas tree, lavishly decorated with German glass ornaments, pearl beads, and popcorn strings; a great mass of presents rested beneath its rich green branches, enticing the children who were lucky enough to attend such a grand event.

Rukia wished she could have spent the night admiring the servant's remarkable efforts; they certainly did not fail to embrace the Christmas spirit. Rather, she found herself dancing with stranger after stranger as various gentlemen proceeded to invite her for the waltz, and the Grand March, and so forth. She had struggled not to refuse the requests, only because she felt her brother's cold eyes sharply watching her the entire time.

She found it all so taxing. Rukia longed for the dances past when she was allowed to run about freely, enjoying the food and watching the ladies and gentlemen rather then joining. Alas it was not to be, and instead she had to make idle chit chat with the droll Dukes, and Counts, and Barons who asked for her attention.

_Because there's nothing like hearing, "You're name is so unique for this area, are you truly English?" and explain that I'm Japanese for the hundredth time_; she rolled her eyes as Earl Who-ever inquired about it. The Earl, while admittedly easy on the eyes, was painfully dimwitted and boorish and Rukia could not wait until she could extract herself from his arms. The raven-haired Duchess did not hesitate to curtsy once the song was over and quickly, yet politely!, excuse herself.

Using the crowd as a cover, she swiftly stepped off the dance floor and snatched a glass of champagne from a passing servant. Doing her best to remain discreet, Rukia wandered toward a lonely window, hoping for only a minute to herself. _I wonder where Renji went off to…_she wondered between sips of her beverage. Her long-time friends' appearance was probably the most exciting thing that would happen tonight. Her eyes softened a bit of the thought of him.

Renji Abarai had worked as their stable boy during her childhood. Despite the vast class difference between them (and her family's disapproval) they had become fast friends and remained close as they explored childhood together. Rukia spent many an afternoon out at the stables with him, getting into all sorts of mischief and, when the appropriate moment was available, even sneaking off into the nearby village. They had had great times, she, Renji, and the other peasant children. Until, that is, Renji decided he had to prove himself or something ridiculous like that, and ran off to join her Highness' army. When he returned after the death of…him…he had scarcely been the boy she knew growing up, addressing her Lady Kuchiki (something she found extremely irritating), and acting as if, well as if they didn't even know each other! Though she hated to admit it, it had been heartbreaking to be so coldly acknowledged by a dear friend, and for the first time she had felt the enormous difference between them.

So it had been a surprise to see her escort for the evening was Renji-a much warmer Renji with his patent smirk and a laxer stance (though that was only a slight difference, he still stood with the stiff and formal proud air of a soldier). Rukia had been taken aback by how much he had grown. His bright red hair was still absurdly long and pulled back into it's signature spiky pony tail, but his lean face was definitely narrower and stronger to her, his eyes less hungry and more alive then ever. What also drastically changed his appearance was the strange collection of tattoo's that adorned his forehead; outrageous and mysterious even to Rukia who didn't know their origins or reasons. The shy child she once knew now stood tall and proud, broad shoulder's arrogantly displaying the uniform he wore.

He had bowed, stiff and painfully formal, muttering his polite greetings and barely meeting her eyes.

But she hadn't cared. Even as she weakly took his stiffly proffered arm and walked downstairs without even a hello, Rukia was simply thankful to have one familiar face tonight. Perhaps Renji, her only and best friend, would understand her plight. But then he disappeared, red hair blending with the decorations without another word.

Still, she reasoned with a swirl of her champagne, it was nice to see him; even if he acted rather standoffish, and it still stung. However even with his appearance, the night was still painfully dragging on, and Rukia had deemed it possibly one of her worst Christmas Eves' ever.

"Excuse me, Lady Kuchiki," a sweaty, meaty hand clamped on her petite shoulder, jerking her from her musings, "would you have this dance with me?" Rukia turned to meet the eager, beady eyes of Baron Marechiyo Omaeda. Quickly she covered her sick horror with a coy smile, fluttering her sooty lashes and replying lightly,

"I apologize Sir Omaeda, but I am feeling slightly ill and would prefer to sit out this dance," she said sweetly. The Baron was the _last_ person she wished to deal with tonight. Rukia was sure her brother wouldn't mind her rejecting him; the fat, dense man was someone Byakuya probably _didn't_ want her to marry. Besides, he was after all only a baron, surely he did not want her marrying that low in class…at least, that was her excuse.

"I insist my Lady, just one dance?" he wheedled, one pudgy finger moving to sweep her bang from her eyes. Outraged by his audacity to actually _touch _her so openly, Rukia stamped down the urge to viciously kick him in the shins and scream no. Eyebrow twitching in frustration, she took a calming breathe before answering.

"The Lady said no Omaeda, I suggest you find someone else," the frosty tone of Byakuya Kuchiki replied for her. Under his penetrating glare Omaeda withered and backed away, mumbling his apologies. "And if you _ever_ touch my sister again you will pay dearly," the noble warned darkly. Rukia clamped down the giggles that threatened to erupt as she watched the piggish baron scamper away.

"Nii-sama…," Rukia began slowly, glancing upwards at the cold dark man that towered above her head. Her brother elegantly bowed and offered her his hand.

"Dance with me?" Rukia nodded, her tiny gloved hand sliding into his with the slightest hesitance.

Her stoic brother remained silent as they glided across the floor, gracefully out dancing the other couples among them. Rukia found it to be the most enjoyable dance she'd had all night; her brother was an excellent dancer and she did not have to worry about stumbling around bumbling steps or awkward turns. She sensed a storm brewing though, and no sooner to she find some of her tension seeping out of her shoulders did her brother decide to speak.

"I pleased that you are at least trying Rukia," Byakuya said. She bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to reverse those feelings if she voiced her true opinion. Instead she regarded him with a blank look, staring emotionlessly at features that were remarkably akin to her own though they did not share blood.

"I know you are not very happy about this," he continued. "But this is for the best. I have done my best to raise you as a lady, but also allow you to have some happiness. However the family is worried, they don't wish to leave the fortune to a spinster." The truth was delivered bluntly; just she both expected and suspected it to be. Byakuya would probably never take another wife, and with no heir to leave it to the fortune would fall into her hands. Her dark gaze focused on the ivory gleam of his _kenseikan_ headpiece that adorned his long, black hair, hoping her eyes would not reveal her turbulent emotions.

"Of course Ni-sama," she said softly. "I will uphold our family's honor, no matter what." It was a painful vow to make, but despite her qualms she had long learned to accept her place on this earth. For a moment, only the jovial strings of the cello and violin could be heard until Byakuya chose to speak again.

"You are not expected to choose a husband tonight. You have at least a year before I am required to step in and select one for you." Her gaze snapped to him in surprise. To even be given such a rare choice…no doubt it was Byakuya's doing. She looked down to hide the sudden swarm of tears.

"Thank you," she choked out gratefully. He said nothing, and they finished their dance in silence. He stiffly bowed before making his way over to other guests. Rukia herself abandoned the dance floor too, desperately in need of fresh air and solitude to sort out the latest revelation about her future. Rukia slyly slipped onto an empty balcony, shutting the glass doors to hide the party-goers view of her.

Despite the bitter December winds that bit her exposed skin, Rukia felt her body relaxing as she took in the peaceful winter night. The snowfall had temporarily stopped, and despite the heavy cloud cover Rukia could make out the soft glow of the moon. The brisk air was welcomed in her lungs, as if nature was expelling the stuffy atmosphere of the ball from her.

_One year then…_

Winter had always been her favorite time of the year. Though most complained about the bitter cold and treacherous ice, Rukia appreciated the pureness of snowfall and rejuvenating frost that swept away the stifling heat of summer. _Perhaps_, she thought sarcastically, _maybe my affinity to it is the reason for my personality_. It was well known even to her, the title as the Kuchiki "Ice Princess": cold and untouchable, even towards her family. But that suited her it just fine. She did not care to mingle with shallow ladies and peacock gentlemen. Those who truly made efforts to know her were the ones worth her time.

Sadly, that list was rather short, and now, it appeared, her time was too.

"My, my, what is this? The Lady of the hour sulking alone and in the cold? How unsightly!" Another intruder and this one was more annoying then any other man that had approached her tonight.

"I was not aware that Nii-sama actually invited you, Urahara-san," Rukia glared at the smirking man as she turned to face him.

"Sadly no, but my dear Yoruichi was allowed to bring a guest," he replied with a beaming grin. "But of course, you know the ball wouldn't be the same without the presence of the great toymaker Kisuke Urahara!" Rukia rolled her eyes.

"Your presence would be better suited as a jester, " she retorted smartly, referring to the man's well-known goofy and laid-back character.

Kisuke Urahara lived in the town surrounding the Kuchiki estate. He was a brilliant man and excellent swordsman who, for reasons unknown to her, left a life of privilege to live here making and selling toys. Of course, he also tinkered with curious inventions, all of his own design, so perhaps the title of town inventor better described the eccentric man rather than toymaker.

In years past he had always made his presence-invited or not-known at the annual Kuchiki Christmas gala, bringing a bulging bag of various goodies for the children that had been allowed to come. Rukia herself could remember receiving many gifts from Urahara as a child; always excited to receive his simple, yet superbly made, toys though she was bound to receive even more glamorous presents the next morning. When Byakuya stopped throwing the parties Kisuke's presence all but disappeared from the manor. Rukia had only heard of him and his bizarre antics from town since then.

"You wound me deeply Lady Kuchiki! Must you be so cold?" the toymaker shivered in an exaggerated manner, or perhaps it was genuine since Rukia too felt herself beginning to shiver.

"Why are you out here?" Rukia asked, violet eyes narrowed in suspicion. Not that Kisuke was necessarily an untrustworthy man, but she was curious as to why he would seek her out. It wasn't as if they had any business with each other, past or present.

"Why indeed?" In a flash a paper fan was hiding his face almost shyly, head tilted downward so his felt green top hat cast a shadow over his eyes. Rukia's eyebrows twitched in exasperation. _Where in the world did he get that? And why does he even have one?! _Gentlemen were not the ones who were supposed to play with fans.

"Perhaps I just wanted to talk a little. It has been a long time my Lady," he singsonged.

"Well then we have talked, so we are done here." She did not have the patience to deal with this childish man right now. All she wanted was solace.

"Casting me away so sooon?! Here I thought we could discuss your last time as a free woman of society!" Despite his light tone and casual flutter of the fan, Kisuke Urahara's face was strangely grave. Her spine ramrod straight, she fully turned her attention to the mysterious toymaker, a dark glare painting her pretty features. What buisness did he have, bringing up such a personal manner! The man wasn't even family.

"You're not out here to propose to me are you Urahara-san?" she asked dryly, though there was a hint of malice to the question. As quickly as it had arrived his seriousness disappeared, and Urahara was outwardly _guffawing _at her comment.

"Heavens no Lady Kuchiki! I am a taken man," he stated cheerfully. She highly doubted that; the toymaker was just as famous for womanizing as he was for his inventions. Then again…Yoruichi Shihoin did often keep his company…

"Though there is no question about it, you are a lovely woman. I see why brother dear keeps such a close eye on you…" the sandy-haired man trailed off, brown eyes leaving her face to roam lower. She felt her face flush with embarrassed indignation. If he was out here to try something…indecent well then! However she caught the look in his eyes and noticed it wasn't one of lust or admiration, but troubled concern. Feeling the flutter of alarm in her stomach she glanced down, not seeing anything other than her own skin, the top of her dress bodice, and the diamond pendant that always hung from her neck.

He mumbled something that was lost to a sudden gust wind. Rukia kept her silence, not sure what to make of the strange air between them. Suddenly his fan snapped open again, and a strange playful grin stretched across his face.

"You know, Lady Rukia, that no man here is really fit to be your husband," he mock sighed and clucked his tongue. Her lips twitched ever so slightly in amusement.

"Then you should talk to Nii-sama about that then. I am already very much aware of that fact," she said wearily, bitterly. Urahara chuckled in agreement.

"Then I have the perfect gift for you!" the toymaker exclaimed, whipping a burlap sack out from behind him. _What? He must be a bit touched. _He rummaged through it excitedly, tisking and hmming in thought. Rukia tapped her foot impatiently, both intrigued and annoyed with the curious man. _What is he up to?_

"Aha! Perfect." the toymaker pulled something from his sack, muttering lightly as a gloved hand swept over it. "Here I present to you, Lady Rukia, a much more suitable husband," he bowed deeply and then held out to her…a nutcracker.

"Urahara…" on one hand, she was irritated that he would make so lightly of her situation, but then she figured, reaching out and cautiously taking the nutcracker from him, it was slightly touching as well.

"Doth the lady like it?" The toy was certainly unique compared to other nutcrackers, she noted. It did stand tall like the typical toys, decorated in a bright red soldier's uniform coat, black pants, hat, and boots. One digit-less 'hand' was held towards the decorative sword as its waist, the other straight and useless by its side. However, that was where any similarity it held towards is processors' ended. The nutcracker's 'hair' was a shocking odd orange rather than snow white, and it lacked the typical felt beard. The painted brow was furrowed almost in a scowl, and its mouth was also painted closed and in a frown. In a way the nutcracker looked a like a disgruntled young boy rather then a cheery, mustached soldier.

"It is…different," she said at last, but with a touch of affection. Urahara had certainly created a distinctive toy, and she couldn't help but appreciate his craftsman ship. He chortled gleefully.

"I thought you may like it! The great Urahara had done it again!" Violet eyes rolled exasperatedly, but focused on the toy held delicately in her small hands. While hardly a suitable husband, much less perfect, there was something about the nutcracker that tugged at her heart. It certainly did look a lot like Kaien…Furiously she shook her head. _Now that is utter nonsense_, she berated herself.

"Now one last thing Rukia," he stated, once again serious. She was surprised by his lack of formality, but his sudden mood swing knocked her off guard so she ignored it. "This is a _very_," he especially stressed this, "special nutcracker. Please take good care of him." Rukia blinked in bewilderment, glancing down at the innocent toy she held skeptically. An odd request, but given her equally odd attachment to the gift she wouldn't protest it.

"Of course Urahara-san. I shall treasure it always." His eyes twinkled with a mysterious cheer.

"That you will my Lady. That you will…" he snapped his fan shut, bowed, and turned while throwing over his shoulder, "it was nice speaking to you Lady Kuchiki. Have a Merry Christmas!" and just like that, the toymaker was gone.

"Definitely a bit touched," she murmured to the nutcracker. Sighing, she looked upwards and noticed it was snowing again, shivering as the crystal flakes made contact with her frozen bare skin. It was time to reenter the world of royalty once again.

No sooner did she step inside the warm room and shut the doors did she find yet another large calloused hand grasping her forearm. Could she not be alone for one second?! Her anger getting the better of her, she wrenched her arm from the stranger's grasp and whirled around, a fiery tirade on the tip of her tongue, only to discover that it was Renji requesting her attentions. A very red-faced, glazed eyed, _drunk_, Renji.

This did not bode well.

"Can we…can we speak somewhere private?" he asked nervously. The raven haired girl was relieved to hear that his speech wasn't slurring, meaning perhaps he was not too tipsy. Adjusting her grip on Urahara's precious gift she nodded and beckoned him to follow her.

Hoping that no one, especially her brother, would see her slipping away with the redhead, Rukia took them to the private pallor room. This was where their actual Christmas tree resided and where Rukia, her brother, and other family would exchange gifts tomorrow morning. It was blessedly empty, save for the two of them.

"What do you want Renji?" she asked coldly. She would have felt guilty at seeing him flinch, but she was too frustrated and hurt by his past behavior to truly care. Perhaps it was best that there was distance between them now, he was just so different from the boy she knew, and she too had changed as well…

"I heard yer getting married," the redhead said bluntly. This time Rukia flinched; of course he would have to hear _that_.

"Not yet," she answered mildly, turning her head away to look anywhere but at his livid, flashing cold eyes.

"But you _will_ be," he hissed angrily, taking a possessive step into her personal space. Ever defiant, Rukia refused to step back, refusing to be intimidated by his towering figure.

"So? I will not disgrace the family name! I will accept Nii-sama's request and find a proper husband, for the good of the Kuchiki." Her steely gaze bore into his; neither willing to back down. Renji pushed his face closer to hers, his warm sweet breath clouding her senses.

"Since when in bloody _hell_ have you _ever_ given a damn about your family and their _wants_? The Rukia I knew would have never agreed to this!" he roared; she couldn't help but step back at his drunken rage.

"It does not matter anymore who I once was Renji! That has nothing to do with my future! You should respect that! Isn't that why you left? To build a better future for yourself?!" she flung back at him. He was right; she did not want to marry some rich man who cared more about her status then her actual physical presence. But it stung to hear him accuse her of changing into something so ugly and strange when he had done the same as well.

Immediately the drunk deflated, wearily rubbing his face. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see the sudden flux of frustrated tears that were shimmering in her ducts.

"Rukia…damn it Rukia I'm sorry. I didn't want us to start fightin' and everything," he groaned in aggravation. "It's just…geez." Renji mumbled something intelligible. "Hell with it!" he declared, stumbling to his knees before a shocked Rukia.

"Rukia Kuchiki, will you marry me!?"

She was dumbfounded. Frozen in distress, her mouth opened and shut wordlessly, trying to form some coherent form of speech but utterly unable to do so. His words echoed in her mind, caressing her brain but refusing to be absorbed and understood. _Renji…_

"Look, I know I'm not royalty, and I am not rich, but in the New Year I will be promoted to a vice captain in the Queen's Guard. That should give me enough standing and money for the marriage to be acceptable! Rukia…say something Rukia!" She swallowed nervously a few times before words finally found her again.

"Renji…," she began warily.

"Please Rukia, I, I _love _you. I can't bear the thought of you being given away to some heartless bastard who doesn't give a damn about you." Her long time friend clutched at her numb hand desperately, eyes searching hers madly.

"Renji, thank you, but, I can't. You are one of my closest and dearest friends but…I am afraid I don't return your feelings," the words were just as painful to say as they were to hear, but she could not lie to him.

"So you'd rather marry someone who doesn't love you at all then?!" he spat resentfully, dropping her hand in disgust. Her amethyst eyes widened in alarm.

"No! No, it's just that…it would be a lie, and we both know it. I would be using you Renji and, you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy," she reasoned gently. However her words seemed to add heat to Renji's ire.

"Bullshit Rukia! What about your happiness?! Huh?" He had risen to his feet, stumbling towards her like an angry bull. Mournfully, her eyes slid to the nutcracker she was hugging to her chest, taking in the painted features that were so painfully familiar.

"We both know that is not what I deserve," she said lowly, her grip tightening on the toy.

"What no, Rukia that's not," he swayed dangerously on his feet, but his anger was so great Rukia was afraid to approach him, "that's not true and, and, damn it no, and… LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" The drunk unexpectedly lashed out, wrenching the nutcracker from her arms and furiously throwing it towards the ground. Her reaction was instantaneous.

"No Renji!" she shrieked, heart bottoming out as the nutcracker soared through the air and landed on the marble floor with a sickening crack. The duchess made to lunge for it, but Renji snatched her wrist in a bruising grip, and brought her close to his snarling face.

"Damn it I said-" Suddenly the doors flew open, and Hinamori rushed in followed by one of the mansions guards: Izuru Kira.

"Unhand Miss Kuchiki!" the blonde guard snapped into action, quickly crossing the room and holding his sword at Renji's throat. The redhead glared viciously at Izuru, contemplating to attack when the blonde spoke again, "You're better then this Abarai, just let her go and we can sort this out without you getting into too much trouble. You don't want to hurt her," he coached lowly. The haze seemed to have lifted a bit because Renji immediately released her and stumbled away, shame flooding his once twisted features.

Wordlessly Rukia slumped to her knees, too _shockedangryscaredterrifed_ to notice Momo's concerned calling or Renji being dragged away. The long night was taking its toll on her, frustration and long hidden guilt bubbling at the surface. Was she seriously crying? Because of the argument? Or was it because of the nutcracker she had broken, the one she promised to take care of, that looked so much like…

She furiously tried to wipe away the unbidden tears with little success. _Good God get a hold of yourself Kuchiki! It's just a damn nutcracker!_ It only happened to look like Kaien Shiba…Hinamori was coxing her onto her feet and upstairs, trying to keep curious partygoers outside the ball room from seeing Rukia in her distressed state.

_Let them stare, I don't care_, she thought emptily.

This was certainly shaping up to be the worst Christmas of her life.

* * *

Much later on, well after midnight when the guests had finally left or settled in a spare room for the night, Rukia found herself back in the pallor room. It was rather ironic she was finding comfort here, only hours earlier she and Renji had fought in this room, but the roaring fire and glistening Christmas tree provided her with some comfort the vastness and coldness of her room could not offer tonight.

She had settled in a chair in front of the fireplace, snuggled in a nightdress with a book to boot. The raven haired noble had managed to recollect herself shortly after returning to her room, and was making swift work to not linger on the nights events. Rather, she wrapped herself in the old Christmas tales she and her sister use to read the night before every Christmas, cuddling before this very fire. It was one tradition she upheld after Hisana's death, something she alone did.

So she was understandably startled to hear someone enter the room; Rukia did not expect anyone else to be up so late but her. Curious, she sat up and peered over her chair to see Byakuya, still clad in his dress coat from earlier. Quickly she rose to her feet, pushing down the dread that rose within her.

"Nii-sama-!"

"I will make sure Abarai will be properly dealt with. I know you have a certain…fondness for the boy, but his actions are inexcusable for someone of the Queen's Guard." His tone broached no room for argument, and Rukia was too exhausted to put up a fight so late at night.

"Yes Nii-sama. Anything else?" At this his usually stoic face softened a little and he held out the nutcracker Urahara had given her. Shocked, but slightly elated to see it in one piece, Rukia lifted it from his hold. She noted that someone, probably a servant, had wrapped a small piece of cloth around its one arm in a sling. Closer inspection revealed the arm had not snapped off but rather the wood was merely cracked. Grateful no greater damage had been dealt to the toy, Rukia hugged it to her chest, wishing once again why she had such a sudden attachment to the figure. Looking up to express her thanks, Rukia was met with empty space and a gently closing door. She smiled ruefully and moved back to the chair.

"This is so foolish, caring so much for a simple nutcracker," she scoffed aloud. "I am no longer a child; I should not hold such concern for a plaything." But even the reprimand could not harden her joy. Deciding the matter could wait for later, Rukia returned to her story, the nutcracker left by her side.

Between the warmth of the glowing fire and the lateness of the hour, the duchess never noticed her violet eyes slipping shut.

Nor, to be precise, did she notice how the room began to grow larger. Nor did she hear the scampering claws of rats or see a set of beady eyes glowing at her.

Innocently she slept, never realizing the sudden danger she was now in…

* * *

**AN: **Geez, I write too much. Sorry that this chapter was so long and filler-ish, but I really wanted to get the ball rolling here, and was just trying to push through the party so we can get to the good stuff *coughIchiRukilove*cough* ! I am also sorry I made Renji to be such a douchemuffin. Trust me, I really do like him, but someone just had to break the nutcracker, it happened in the ballet! Why is that important to me, not sure. This was supposed to be posted a billion weeks ago in hopes of wraping this up for Christmas; alas time escaped me and that won't be happening. However I am determined to finish this, and swear to give it my utmost attention.

About the switching between use of suffix's and not: I'm pretty much use to using them because I like authenticity, so I stay away from the dubs. However, I realized it was rather idiotic for them to be using suffix's when this is partially takes place in England, so some characters (those with established Japanese backgrounds like Momo and Rukia) will use them and others won't. Sorry if it gets confusing.

Rukia: Is a pain for me to write. Please let me know if she's too OOC. I love her character, but sometimes I find her difficult to write.

At the end of the story I'll post the credits if anyone can't tell which Nutcracker character's the Bleach character's are representing. Until then please review, I'd love to hear what you guys think of this.


	2. Act II: Attack of the Rat King

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Bleach_ or _The Nutcracker_. This is just me forcing two horribly different worlds together for pure enjoyment.

**Rating: **Is still teen because now there is language and violence here.

* * *

_Once upon a time there was an enchanted nutcracker, a bloodthirsty rat, and a plot most foul..._

Act II: Attack of the Rat King

Rukia was not sure what exactly woke her up, but she certainly regretted opening her eyes.

It was a sight she never would have imagined. Looming over her confused figure was a giant rat, beady teal eyes gleaming with bloodlust and a wicked looking blade in its hand. Its greasy fur was dark in color, though in the firelight it seemed to have a dark blue tint to it. Lighter blue stripes stained the fur over its eyes, and along its jaw rested a bleached white jaw bone.

The girl barely had a chance to process that an _oversized mouse_ was actually holding a sword before the creature reacted first-swinging the blade at her neck. Time seemed to slow as Rukia watched the whistling steel cut the air, horror struck and frozen.

CLANG!

"Idiot, don't just sit there!" Rukia opened (when did she even close them?) her bewildered eyes and looked up in astonishment. A gleaming black sword had halted the opposing one's descent towards her neck and easily pushed it away.

"What…?" The second figure towering above her was, thankfully, not another rat, but a man. A man with startling bright orange hair…_Impossible!_ Rukia thought as she clambered to her feet.

"Tch, figures that damn pervert sticks me some air-headed noble," her rescuer grumbled.

"Excuse me I am _not_ airheaded you rude moron!" Rukia responded with a sharp kick to the back of his knee. The man hissed in pain and whirled around to glare at her. Her next response was cut off as she finally got a good look at the man's features.

The scowl…the orange hair…the amber eyes…the white cloth wrapped around his left arm…he was…!

"You're the nutcracker!" the raven haired beauty exclaimed in shock. But this wasn't possible! Her nutcracker was, well, a nutcracker! The stranger before her was a man of flesh and blood, or so he seemed to be. Ocher eyes rolled in response.

"Now that you're up to speed," he said sarcastically. A blade whistled through the air once more, and this time the nutcracker's black hat fell victim to it.

"Oi Nutcracker!" growled the rat. "Don't ignore me! We still need to finish our fight from last time!" The nutcracker eyed the fallen top part of his hat with distaste, and ripping off the remains of it from his head, muttered,

"I told Urahara not to give me such a stupid looking hat." Rukia froze.

"Wait, that name. How do you know Urahara?" she demanded. The man (nutcracker? God almighty was she confused) heaved a long suffering sigh and slid his gaze to her.

"He's the one who got me in this damn mess! Just sit here and wait till I'm done like a good little princess alright?" he ordered. Rukia swelled with indignation, heat flushing her face in response to her fury. Just who did this buffoon think he is?! Jaw grinding furiously, she glared venomously as the carrot-top removed the sling and rolled his shoulder in annoyance. She could tell he was about to say something else, to her or the rat she didn't know, but the words never formed as the impatient rat charged.

_The fool isn't even paying attention! _The pale girl thought in alarm. Yet he needed no warning, the nutcracker leaped over the creature deftly, somersaulting mid-air to land nimbly on his feet and then, flee.

"So yer a coward now nutcracker?!" the rat sneered, quickly giving chase to his newfound prey. The boy only threw a smirk over his shoulder before leaping off the edge of the chair. Rukia shook her head at the foolish words, the Duchess was fully aware of the nutcracker's true intentions. Her own bodyguards had utilized such a tactic numerous times before. Lure the threat away from its target. The rat had barreled after him, leaving Rukia alone and safe.

Alone. Now that she was, the absurdity of her situation fully hit her. Talking rats? A nutcracker coming to life? And…she looked around, when did the chair grow to such epic proportions? This had to be a dream. Yet below where the strange boy and talking rat had disappeared she could hear the clashing of swords and cries of others…_Others?! There are more?_ Shaking herself, Rukia dashed over to the chair's arm and began to climb, desperate to see what was happening. It was a bit of a struggle (felt was much harder to grasp rather than tree branches), but once the raven-haired noble pulled herself on top a fantastic sight greeted her.

For one thing, the room had grown as well, to a titanic size to be exact. The evergreen tree, though huge in real life, was now so tall she would have to crane her neck back to even see the star on top. The room itself seemed to stretch on endlessly; the grand doors probably an hour's journey for her tiny legs. She glanced down at her miniscule hands and realized that in reality _she_ had to have been the one to change size and not the room. _How?_

Below her, scattered about the wooden floor boards, battled two armies, one composed of toy soldiers and the other of rats. Rukia rubbed her vibrant eyes in incredulity, unable to grasp what she was seeing.

There were _rats_ in her house! Talking animals running around on two feet rather than four, all wielding wicked swords and wearing some sort of mask. Disgusting creatures ruining the presents, clawing the floor, breaking Hisana's ornaments! Fury blossomed within her chest. These vermin, fabricated or not, had invaded her home and were _wrecking _it. And that stupid orange-top had patronized her, the Grand Duchess!, telling her to just _cower_ and play damsel in distress. "Not happening," she growled.

Rukia Kuchiki was not helpless; she was not the type to stand around uselessly and mindlessly gape.

_First things first, I need to climb down without breaking my neck_, she thought dryly. Then, she somehow had to get her hands on a weapon and pray her skills weren't so rusty that she would get herself killed by sword rather than a terrible fall. Peering over the edge, Rukia knew this would be easier said then done.

* * *

The dance between them never changed. It was a vicious _pas de deux_, violent and barbaric to the core as both opponents fiercely tried to draw forth blood from each other. Though the rat had won their first clash, all other fights between them remained undecided; the rat believed the only winner was the fighter left alive. As time had passed they eventually gained equal footing, and the nutcracker was determined to end this tonight.

"So Grimmjow, what did you do this time to piss off your beloved master?" the carrot-top asked, referring to the stump where a clawed paw once resided. The rat's feral grin (almost like a cat's, he noted in ironic bemusement) tipped down in an angry frown.

"None of yer damn business! I can still kick your worthless ass!" Grimmjow snarled, swinging his sword at impossible speeds at his opponent's neck to prove this. The nutcracker jerked to the side in time, stabbing his sword at the rat's chest only to be blocked. Steel clashing, the two were in a deadlock, each one struggling to push against the others sword.

"And what about you? Our last fight must have sent you crying, haven't seen yer damn mug around Soul Society in a while," the bloodthirsty rat sneered. Finally, the nutcracker's sword broke the hold, and he moved to swing again. The rat leaped back in time, but the black blade still managed to slice a sliver of his cheek.

"That's none of your damn business!" the toy shot back, gritting his teeth as he missed, again, and the creature flipped over his head. He barely avoided the attack to his back, and as a result left himself open to the unexpected kick to the stomach.

He gasped as the air was forced from his body, unintentionally bending over in response. Grimmjow did not hesitate in his counter attack, raising his clawed foot and slamming it into the carrot-tops face, leaving three angry scratches behind on his cheek. Staggering to the side, the nutcracker glared as he wiped the running blood.

"You've gotten slow Nutcracker! Don't tell me you've been sleepin' or somethin' all this time!" Grimmjow cackled as he swiftly and viciously parried his blade. The nutcracker gritted his teeth in frustration, hating how close the rat was to the actual truth. Faster and faster Grimmjow advanced, forcing the toy to switch to the defensive. The boy's brow furrowed, either the rat was getting quicker or…a cold sensation seized his gut, he_ was _moving slower.

_Damn it, not now!_

Another kick to the face, a rough heel that dug horribly into his already burning cuts, sent him staggering to the side, minutely stunned.

"Keh, how pathetic! Fight me Nutcracker!" his opponent demanded, a disgusted frown marring it's once delighted features. The nutcracker's scowl deepened in annoyance, pushing aside the comment in favor of charging, desperate to drive his blade into the vermin's soft belly.

Blocked. Their swords screeched as the metal clashed, tired arms struggling in another deadlock. As Grimmjow's blade advanced against his, the carrot-top swiftly shoved his booted foot into the rat's stomach, pleased when the creature stumbled back with a wheezy snarl.

"Still not enough!" Grimmjow taunted as the nutcracker followed through with a series of parries. _Swoosh_! Another slice to the neck was narrowly missed, the toy cursed at his lost chance. He needed to end the battle soon. Even if Grimmjow was the one ordered to kill off the girl, reinforcements would surely be sent if the rat did not report to his slimy master soon; whatever Grimmjow had done in the past probably lost Aizen's trust in his abilities, and the rat king would probably send reinforcements sooner rather then later. The nutcracker needed to make their escape soon.

The rat was in mid-turn; foolishly leaving it's left side open to the nutcracker. A swift and efficient stab, followed through with a vicious diagonal slash, would leave his enemy badly wounded and essentially compromised. A quick and easy finish, then he would grab the girl and get them the hell away from here…

However old Murphy had to get his kicks tonight and nothing could be so simple.

As soon as the plan had wrapped itself up nicely in his head, the nutcracker's body seized. Frozen from his head to his pinky toe, the carrot-top mentally cursed as every muscle locked up against his will except for his shaking left hand, which had come up to frantically grasp at the side of his face. Teeth gritted, the toy desperately fought against the blackness seeping into his vision.

_Not now! Dammit not now! _

Grimmjow was laughing wildly as his black sword was effortlessly knocked from his lax grasp, sailing out of his sight. Death's hand hung over his vulnerable head, cackling at the toy's misfortune. However despite his inner raging and turmoil, the nutcracker's body remained frozen against his will.

_Damn it._

* * *

The sadistic cackle followed by the ominous clang of a sword was what attracted Rukia's attention to the ongoing fight between the nutcracker and the rat. The arduous climb down left her feeling peevish and frustrated. Her trembling hands relayed what had happened-sweaty palms had made grasping the felt fabric difficult, twice she had almost plunged to her death while the damn boy-nutcracker, whatever-had leaped from that same height and landed perfectly unscathed. Where her ire was exactly directed at the toy or herself was not clear, but the petite duchess was ready to unleash it on the mangy rats destroying her Christmas.

Then that _fool_ lost his sword.

Three sets of eyes, gleeful, grim, and horrified respectively, watched the gleaming black weapon sail through the air and clatter sharply a few feet from the duo. The blue tinted creature laughed wildly, victoriously as his sharp grin grew to grotesque proportions on its furry face. And the nutcracker…just stood there, hunched over as if in pain, desperately clutching the left side of his face. The teen seemed frozen, even as the rat lifted its own sword high above its head for the final strike.

"What are you doing you IDIOT?!"

Not even fully thinking it though, Rukia moved into action. In one fluid movement she wouldn't remember making, her slipper was off her foot, in her hand, and suddenly airborne. It gracefully descended downwards, silent and unnoticed, hitting its mark with a solid TRWACK to the back of the rats head. Stunned, the rodent whirled around in surprise, its frozen prey temporarily forgotten.

"You…," Grimmjow hissed, ice teal eyes flashing dangerously. Not even sparing his enemy a glance, the rat charged at Rukia, teeth bared in a snarl, "Don't take me lightly you little bitch!"

Aside from the widening of her eyes, the duchess did not display any fear. Her shock at the strength and accuracy of her meager distraction had been fleeting. Now her old training, courtesy of Master Ukitake, was taking over, muscle memory moving her body into a defensive stance. Though she was weaponless, and, quite frankly, outweighed by the animal swiftly closing the distance between them, the duchess knew it was best to remain calm. Find the weak points, strike without hesitation.

The problem was she underestimated the rat's speed.

_Impossible!_ She thought wildly as dagger claws dug into the soft tender flesh of her neck. One blink and she was in its grasp. On two legs such movement, such _speed_, shouldn't be probable. It was almost ungodly. But then again, the rodent shouldn't be able to talk or wield a sword either.

"Che, I'm gonna rip your guts out girl," the rat grinned wickedly as it tightened his hold for emphasis, "then I'll finish that pathetic weakling."

Too busy trying to suck air into her starving lungs, Rukia did not realize she was flying until her tiny body collided into the chair leg. Gratefully she welcomed the sudden influx of air, choosing the relieving burn over the flaring pain in her back. Hunched over on shaky knees and oblivious to anything other then _inhale, exhale_, the shadow that fell over her went unnoticed until a low growl disrupted her pattern.

"Shame I have ta kill ya," warm, rancid breath smothered her senses as Grimmjow invaded her space. Bloodied claws traced the curve of her jaw and trailed down her throat, stopping where her pendent rested underneath her nightgown. Despite herself Rukia shivered, the gentle scraping of claw over flesh made her skin crawl. "You'd be fun to keep around." A rip filled the air as the rat shredded the high collar, revealing creamy collar bone. The claws curled around her necklace, only one rough tug would be needed to snap the silver chain it hung from.

But nothing happened. Rather, the diamond seemed to…pulse (which went unobserved by the dark haired girl) in Grimmjow's hand. His mouth curled downward as the thing reacted angrily to his touch. "Right," the creature muttered, releasing the necklace.

Rukia fruitlessly searched for a means of escape; however she knew it was useless to try. The rat's speed alone seemed impossible to outmatch, even if he wasn't successfully blocking her way. Grimmjow grabbed the front of her night dress, roughly dragging her to her feet. He then redrew his sword, casually, almost in a _bored_ manner, aiming it at her abdomen area.

_Just as he promised_, her thoughts were strangely dry for one about to encounter death.

"My Master thanks ya for this, your death is extremely helpful to him," the rat cackled. Violet eyes left the threatening blade in confusion, hoping to find answers in the ugly face instead. _Master? Who, what is he talking about?_

"Well we don't want that do we?" an annoyed voice cut through the tension, startling both girl and vermin. A black blade erupted through Grimmjow's chest, piercing the heart with a deadly grace. The rat sputtered, crimson drops flying from its mouth, staining its teeth in a horrific fashion.

"God…dammit!" Grimmjow spat weakly. Still, the rat refused to give up, feebly raising its sword to cut down his first victim, desperate to at least win this battle, even though he'd prefer to kill the nutcracker over the girl.

"It's over Grimmjow."

The black death ripped downwards, slicing the rodent from the thoracic cavity to its lower abdomen. Grimmjow teetered forward, his sword dropping uselessly from his single, raised hand, and instead rested it against Rukia's pendent. She shivered as the rough, scaly claw pressed harshly into her chest, gasping as the pressure caused the diamonds dull edges to dig into her skin painfully. But the moment was fleeting; in the second Rukia felt _something_ shift within her, the hand had hit the ground with its owner, who was currently spluttering his last breath as his blood pooled around her feet.

Rukia was no stranger to death, and had been hardened somewhat by its grisly hand. But even the sight before her still managed to turn her stomach, and she had to look anywhere except down in fear of loosing its contents.

"Did he hurt you?" the surprising warm timber pulled her from the overwhelming horror that had almost swallowed her. It was the nutcracker, apparently recovered from whatever ailed him before. His brow was furrowed in a deep ugly scowl that seemed even more unsettling with the blood drying on his face. However, his light brown eyes held a concern and worry that made him less frightening then he appeared to be. Rukia cleared her throat, once again momentarily speechless for the second time that night.

"Yes, no thanks to you!" she huffed indignantly, deftly stepping around the slumped body of Grimmjow.

"What the hell!? I just saved your midget ass!" the nutcracker squawked angrily. "What kind of thanks is that?"

"The kind you get for leaving me up there," she pointed furiously up at the chair. If it was possible, the nutcracker's frown deepened as he wiped the blade clean on the rat's carcass and returned it to its sheath.

"That was for your protection idiot! You would have been fine if you just stayed up there!"

"Oh yes, because freezing up on the battlefield and getting yourself killed is just as smart in the long run," Rukia snapped icily, amethyst eyes flashing in victory as she pointed out his dangerous screw up. She was lost as to why he froze up so. The nutcracker did not bare any mortal injuries that would hold him back. However there was no retort, only the distinct stiffening of his back as the carrot-top turned away and glared into the darkness.

"We need to get going," was all he said.

_Going? What does he mean by that?_ The duchess thought in bewilderment. She had hoped that this madness her subconscious had conjured would end with Grimmjows death. However it seemed her hopes were not meant to be fulfilled. Rukia gingerly rubbed her throat, shivering at the fresh memory of claws. For a dream, it certainly was as painful as it was crazy. But…one was not supposed to feel pain in a dream. In fact, this all _felt_ too real.

_But it's impossible! _She thought.

"Going? Where? What is going on?! Who is that, why is he even a rat!?" she cried, refusing to move until her questions were answered. The nutcracker seemed to realize this as well, swearing under his breath and cursing Urahara for good measure.

"We are going to Soul Society, land of the fae, in order to protect your crazy, midget ass. That is Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, one of King Aizen's best soldiers. He's a rat 'cause he was born a rat, and said rat was sent here to kill you so Aizen could get his hands on that," he pointed at her chest where the pendent rested.

Except the pendent was no longer there.

Instead a silvery tattoo was etched into her exposed pale skin, barely visible in the sliver of moonlight to deduce its pattern or form. Both cursed at the same time.

"The hell?"

"Shit."

The nutcracker became more worried in that instant, roughly grabbing her wrist and dragging her along like some sack of potatoes. Rukia's mind stalled on information overload, desperately overwhelmed by the sudden _madness_ that encroached into her life.

_Fae? Is he seriously talking about fairies?! And Aizen, who is this man? Why does he want to kill me? And the rat, Grimmjow?, how can that thing actually talk? And why am I even thinking like this! It's just a dream isn't it? _Somehow though, Rukia was failing to convince herself otherwise.

She stared in puzzlement at the warm hand clasped around her fragile wrist. The skin was warm and slightly calloused, but soft and smooth and alive. For some reason, she had been expecting the nutcracker to be made out of wood. Which brought up another question, how was he alive?

"This is bad," the nutcracker muttered as he pulled them to a waiting white stallion that Rukia was positive used to be a wooden toy that had been under the Christmas tree. Halting, he immediately went over to the horse and began fiddling with the reigns and tightening the packs attached to its saddle.

Finally, though he only took a few minutes, the carrot-top turned back and said, "Let's get moving Princess."

"I am not a Princess you fool. I am a duchess, and I refuse to go _anywhere _with some ruffian like you," she stated coolly, leveling him with the fierce and legendary Kuchiki glare. However the simpleton remained unaffected, daring to actually return it twofold AND stalk into her personal space.

"I don't care what you are _Princess_, but you are coming with me. As soon as those foot-rats realize Grimmjow is dead, they're gonna be coming after us. And to add to that Aizen probably already has reinforcements on the way, which is just more trouble for me," he grounded tersely. "It's for your own good, dammit, so I suggest you just shut up and listen to me. This isn't a dream or whatever you think it is. This is real." If he could be any more irritating, Rukia's spine would snap from the tension he was instilling.

"I don't even know who you are and you want me to go to some…_fairy land_?! You expect me to believe you? And if this is real, how can I be sure that you don't want to kill me either?" Her eyes narrowed acutely. That indeed was a possibility. She was just supposed to take his word for it? _A murderous nutcracker, could this get anymore ridiculous?_ The boy sighed in frustration, raking a hand through his vibrant orange spikes.

"You're just gonna have to trust me," he finally said, staring resolutely into her eyes. "Even though strangling you sounds really tempting right now, I'm here to protect you. Trust me on that."

_Trust me_. His ocher gaze burned her, the utter _determination _that he exuded was almost overwhelming. Where else had she seen such a look? One less cocky and much more mature, but still so resolved like a rock? She had heard those same words, and seen that same look years before, and it literally ended with blood, tears, and death.

_But its not the same person_, the duchess reminded herself_, he's not even technically a person. _

"_Trust me."_

Well alright then.

Rukia uncrossed her arms and confidently strode past the carrot-top, pretending to take more interest in his impressive stallion than its owner. She rested a cautious hand on its quivering flank, finding a small comfort in the steady and hard horseflesh; an anchor, something to keep her attached to reality when she felt completely disconnected from it.

"I still do not know your name Nutcracker," Rukia said nonchalantly, casting him sides glance over her shoulder. His lips quirked half-heartedly but his eyes flashed victoriously.

"It's Kurosaki Ichigo, your Highness," he drawled.

An outraged cry pierced the stillness around them, startling the nutcracker, _Ichigo_ her mind corrected, into action. He marched back up to the horse, dug into the side pack, and revealed a pair of silver, satin, ballet slippers. Rukia lifted a slim black eyebrow in bewilderment. What use were those for? Certainly now wasn't the time for dancing.

"Here," Ichigo carelessly tossed them to her, "put these on. Looks like Grimmjows lackeys finally found him. We need to move now; don't worry about lacing them up, just get them on your feet." She certainly did not appreciate the way he ordered her around. And he was so rude about it too!

"Ballet slippers? Why in the world do I need these?!" Even as she protested Rukia was shucking off her other bed slipper and slipping the other shoes on. The nutcracker rolled his eyes at her and resumed his scowling (always with the scowling!) as he deftly climbed into the saddle.

"Human can't enter the Soul Society without something to keep them there. Those shoes are enchanted so you won't disappear as soon as we get there. Do not _ever_ take them off," he ordered crossly.

"Sure, fine, whatever," Rukia huffed, still unsure of the practicality of _ballet slippers_. At least, she figured, they were better then the thin bed slippers she had on before. Well, one actually, since the other had been used as a half-assed projectile.

A cloister of rats suddenly appeared from behind the chair leg, growling madly and waving their swords in anger. The soldiers zoned in on the two figures by the horse, and steered their mad rampage towards them. Ichigo cursed, they were out of time.

"You know how to ride, or did they only teach you sidesaddle Princess?" he taunted, holding out a mocking gloved hand to help the black haired girl onto the saddle. Rukia's cold eyes flashed, and a smug smirk of her own curled her lips. Haughtily she knocked his helping hand away and moved closer to the horse.

"For the last time you fool," she hooked one foot into the side stirrup and gracefully settled in behind the nutcracker, "I am not a princess. I am the Grand Duchess Rukia Kuchiki, and I am more than able to take care of myself." Amusement flickered in Ichigo's eyes before he turned forwards with a muttered, "che."

Sharply he snapped the reigns, sending the horse into motion. Immediately Rukia's arms grasped onto Ichigo's waist to prevent from falling off as the creature lurched forward. She resisted the childish urge to press close and shut her eyes, instead she looked back to see how close the enemy was. An arrow whizzed past her ear, barely skimming a lock of her ebony hair. Too close then.

Rukia noticed the vermin had taken to running on all four legs now, gaining speed alarmingly quickly. Violet eyes widened in alarm. _What kind of rat can actually keep up with a horse?!_ Ichigo sensed this too, urging the stallion to run faster even though the animal was already in a mad gallop. She glanced forward, though it was difficult to see over his broad shoulder, to see where exactly she was being taken.

"How are we getting out of here?" she shouted.

"The same way they came in!" Ichigo replied. Well that was certainly unhelpful. How was she to know…oh. They were headed straight for the arched mouse hole in the wall, hidden behind the thick branches of the Christmas tree. Ichigo leaned forward as they rode under, lips pressed tightly in determination as they neared it.

"But that will lead us no where!" Rukia objected, grimacing as rat leaped at them, only to smack into a tree branch.

"It's a portal! You ask too many damn questions!"

"I can ask whatever I want when it's my life at stake! And what do you mean by-" A blinding light seared her retinas the minute they dashed through the deceptively dark hole, cutting off her response. A weightless feeling swam through her, leading Rukia to tighten her hold on the nutcracker just so she would feel more grounded. A kaleidoscope of colors danced across her vision as time simultaneously slowed down and sped up, dizzying and mind blowing all at once.

Rukia was violently jolted as the horse slammed onto the ground, jerking her so roughly she was almost chucked off the saddle. Her eyes flew open, regretting it instantly as the stinging wind caused them to water terribly. They were still running, just no longer in the Kuchiki Manor. If Rukia wasn't afraid for her life at this moment, she would have been awed.

Gone were the wooden floor boards, orient pictures, plush furniture, and the grand Christmas tree, all replaced with equally impressive, endless, snow cloaked pines, a glistening, snow covered path, and the dim light of a yellow crescent moon. Even in the scant lighting, the noble could sense this new world's mystical beauty and charm.

A flash of metal and a following cry of pain kept her from being lured into her new surroundings however. Danger was still at hand. Ichigo cursed as he kicked another masked rat away, a dark frown marring his features.

"Of course he has an ambush waiting," he muttered. Rukia felt her stomach bottom out, there were more?! "Hold on Rukia, we're gonna outrun them!" Ichigo yelled grimly. That was fine with her, the petite duchess had momentarily feared that the nutcracker would stop and try to fight them all off. At least, it seemed, he wasn't a _complete_ moron.

He veered the horse off the path, directing it right into the brush. The creature never faltered, smoothly navigating around the trees and leaping over fallen flora. Still though, several of Aizen's follower's managed to keep up. Another one leaped with claws open and hungry for blood. The rodent misjudged its distance (thankfully) and did not manage to knock Rukia off. Instead it managed to grasp the mounts backside, claws digging frantically into the horse's rump.

The beast wavered, legs suddenly stumbling over the snow at the unexpected and painful addition. Fearing what would happen should the horse slip or slow down, Rukia reacted quickly. One hand grasping onto the back of the nutcracker's jacket tightly, the duchess smoothly removed her left foot from its stirrup and awkwardly, but not lacking in strength, kicked the rat in the side of its face. The force stunned the animal solider so that it loosened its grip and a following backwards kick (now that she was forced to stand so she wouldn't loose her balance) to its nose sent it flailing backwards.

She grinned in satisfaction as the rat tumbled in the snow, knocking over one of its comrades in the process. Only then did she realize that she was still wearing her nightdress, and possibly gave the creature an unneeded show. She flushed with irritation and quickly resituated herself in the saddle, hoping she was the only one to notice her embarrassing (and oh so improper) error.

"Duck!" Rukia barely had time to react to the order as an onslaught of branches attacked her. Wincing as a bramble yanked her hair, Rukia buried her face into Ichigo's warm back, enjoying the protection from the biting wind that had numbed her face. It barely lasted a moment before she found herself free from the branches and was looking up again (her damnable curiosity at full play).

They had emerged from the thick forest now, not a single tree was in her frontwards vision. Just a vast cloudy sky, open ashen ground, and a lovely steep drop ahead. Naturally, they were headed straight for it.

"Ichigo!" she screeched, "what are you doing? Are you trying to kill us!?"

"Don't worry! I got this!" he called back. Damn him, she could just hear the smirk in his voice.

"Are you blind? There is a bloody cliff ahead!" But the carrot-top didn't respond. Instead, he sharply kicked the horse's sides, urging the creature to run just a little bit faster. Blindly the stallion plowed on, seeming to take no heed of the doom lying ahead. Rukia was no longer concerned with how close or far their pursuers were, not when what was in front was of much greater concern.

"You're crazy! Utterly, bloody insane!" The duchess desperately clutched the nutcracker's jacket, frozen digits digging into the soft fabric like a lifeline. But the bastard _still _ignored her, his cocksure grin growing larger as the edge came upon them.

The horse leaped. The nutcracker hollered. The rats skidded to a frantic stop. And the duchess' eyes snapped shut as she viewed the dark abyss that was about to shallow her.

_I'm going to die. Oh God I'm going to plummet to a horrible, painful death because I trusted a crazy nutcracker and I really want to wake up now. _

"_Trust me."_

For a second time in a span of only ten minutes, Rukia was painfully jolted as the horse connected with solid hard ground.

_Ground?_

Ichigo was actually laughing as he commanded the horse to slow, bringing their abrupt dash to a calm canter. Rukia whipped her head around, stunned to see nothing but thick evergreens behind them rather then a deep chasm or pursuing rats. Confused and angry, she reacted in true Rukia fashion.

"What the hell was that?!" She slapped the nutcracker upside his head, her glare so icy it could have frozen Hell. The carrot-top sputtered indignity, immediately reaching back to rub his throbbing head.

"You sure have a funny of showing your gratitude," Ichigo growled, resisting the urge to throttle the source of his pain.

"You almost flung us off a cliff!"

"There was no cliff! That was just an illusion," Ichigo explained arrogantly. Her eyes blinked in slight confusion as she turned backwards again. There was nothing but a thick cluster of trees behind them.

"How is that possible?" she asked sharply. The nutcracker huffed, as explaining anything was a great strenuous task.

"You're in a land inhabited by fairies, magic kind-of comes with the territory," he said tiredly. "Ever since Aizen started the war, the heartland, called Seireitei, of Soul Society has been protected by a magical barrier. To keep the rats from finding the exact borders of Seireitei the shield varies between an actual solid force to keep things out and an illusion to trick them. We really lucked out tonight." He scratched the back of his head in thought, oblivious to Rukia's gaping disbelief.

"What do you mean by "lucked out"! Are you telling me you just hoped that the cliff was an illusion and took a chance?!" She exclaimed. Dear God, she really had put her life in the hands of a complete and total moron.

"Hey it's been a while since I've been here alright? Quit bitchin' and just be quiet or something!" Rukia's eyebrow twitched violently at his rudeness, but she crossed her arms to starve the temptation to smack him, again.

They lapsed into silence. The duchess tried to observe her surroundings more closely now that the danger had passed, but it was too dark for her to make out anything other then trees and snow. As she felt the horse sway beneath her, the unknown tension began to seep from her muscles, leading her to feel exhausted and utterly overwhelmed.

She still had a dozen questions floating in her head, ranging from the length of her stay to Aizen to her family. Her family! Were they ok?! She hadn't even thought of them before!

"They're fine." Rukia jerked as Ichigo's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Grimmjow was only sent for you. Your family will be fine; hell, if things go right, they won't ever realize you were missing." Her brow furrowed. So now her enchanted nutcracker was some mind reader? Given the nights insanity, it wouldn't be _that_ surprising. Really.

"Just rest alright? We should reach the city tomorrow, and you can bug someone else with all your questions," Ichigo said. Deciding she was too tired to reply, Rukia took the nutcrackers advice and settled in closer to him, seeking extra warmth to block out the numbing cold (at least he was useful for something). Eyes slipping shut, the dark haired duchess was lulled to sleep by the gentle movement of the horse.

_A dream, that's all this is. When I wake up I will be home again. Home. _

* * *

**AN: **Spooky fails at fight scenes. Epically. I tried. I tried so hard to make it all cool and fancy sounding, but this is just fail. I apologize for my failness and the over use of the word fail. I'm also sorry for killing off Grimmjow so early on. He's my favorite espada. However his death just kind-of worked and I couldn't think of a better introductory villian that would be a terror to both Ichigo and Rukia. So about the delay. I swear I typed up at least eight pages between the first posting and over break. But last week was midterms, so nothing got done other then studying and mindless tv watching. As is such, the rest of this was finished this weekend and in my haste to get this chapter out it has not been read over ten times (only five, yeah I counted) and probably has a million mistakes. I'm sorry for that too. Wow, I'm just full of apologies tonight. I think I'm going to go to bed now to avoid sounding any more pathetic.

Please review! You guys have all been fantastic so far. I promise to respond to your reviews. Eventually. Especially let me know what you think of characterizations and IchiRuki interaction in general. I'm hyper paranoid about screwing that up.


	3. Act III: The Land of Snow

_**Disclaimer: **_I'm too tired to come up with something witty, just go check the previous chapters, nothings changed here.

**Rating: **Just be wary of language and very slight (barely there if you ask me) suggestive content.

* * *

_Once upon a time there was a timid snowflake, a terrible king, and a changing world..._

Act III: The Land of Snow

When Rukia woke up, she was thankful that at least no menacing figures were hulking over her. However, the duchess was regretful to accept that her "this is all a dream" theory had officially been drop kicked somewhere yonder.

Stretching till her shoulders popped (Rukia was unaccustomed to sleeping on the ground, even if the pine needles underneath added some cushion) the girl took in her surroundings. It seemed the nutcracker had found a hollowed out tree to rest in; she frowned as her fingertips brushed nothing but open space. The nutcracker was not here. She made a cursory glance and corrected her thoughts. Of course he wouldn't be, the hollowed out tree trunk was much too small for his lanky frame.

Still, the dark haired girl was a little nervous at the thought of being completely alone in this strange land. Rukia rubbed her arms and pretended the goose bumps were the result of the chilly morning air rather than the memory of Grimmjow's flashing, yellowed fangs. Instead of thin cotton however, her tiny hands felt the silky material of the nutcracker's red jacket. The duchess glanced down in surprise of see Ichigo's coat encompassing her petite body. Well, that certainly explained why she was so warm, and the husky scent that had enveloped her senses.

She shook her head. As if she had time for such foolishness. Though she was reluctant to leave her warm and dry haven, Rukia crawled out of the hollow and into the bright sunlight of the day. _It's too bright and early for such foolishness too_, she thought groggily, rubbing the remaining sleep from her dark eyes.

"About time. I thought you would never wake up," an irritated voice groused from her left. Turning, she caught sight of the carrot-top lounging against a boulder, scowling at the remains of a fire. She watched in disinterest as he climbed to his feet and kick snow over the long dead coals.

"If you wanted to leave earlier, then you should have woken me up earlier," Rukia retorted smartly, crossing her arms over her chest haughtily; the too long jacket sleeves flopping against her sides made her look rather adorable instead of the superior look she wanted. She had had intentions on inquiring his nights rest since it appeared he had slept out in the cold and wet snow, but his attitude quickly soured her mood. _If he's going to blame everything on me then the idiot doesn't deserve my concern!_ She internally huffed.

The nutcracker merely scoffed as he adjusted the stallion's saddle and retightened the packs. Rukia stood awkwardly as he rechecked everything and tried to clean away any evidence of their presence. While his caution seemed unnecessary, her lurking paranoia appreciated the effort. After all, nothing was blocking the rats, just merely throwing them off their trail for a while longer.

"Let's go." Ichigo adroitly swung into the saddle, gesturing impatiently at Rukia as she rolled her eyes and silently complied. Of course they had to keep moving; there was no food to calm her hunger or warm water to wash the film from her skin. However before joining him, she shrugged off the scarlet coat and held the heavy material to him.

"Here, thank you for letting me use it," she thanked stiffly. Byakuya had taught her manners after all. Thanks to her Ichigo had probably slept half frozen last night, fire or not. Amber barely glanced at her before flitting away.

"Keep it. You need it more than me, that nightgown is pretty pathetic for this weather," he said gruffly. Rukia frowned, that was rich coming from the one who was wearing an equally thin, long sleeved white shirt.

"I'm fine," she insisted, holding the jacket closer to him, "just take it." Ichigo turned towards her, his mouth set in a deep glower and a hint of red flushing his cheeks.

"No really. Keep. It." He growled, pushing her outstretched arm away and whipping forward as if the very sight of her burned him. "And hurry up!" Confused by his flustered actions, the duchess curiously glanced downwards.

_Oh._

The night gown was in a dismal state. Grimmjow's claws had shredded the collar of the gown, leaving her pale skin exposed from her right shoulder, across her the top of her chest, all the way to her left armpit. Sometime during their wild ride through the brambles and trees the bottom lace had gotten caught and ripped away most of the hem, leaving her legs exposed. There were other various tears and dirt smudges that darkened the once white material. Her face blossomed into a full out cherry red. She must look like a totally _wreck_. A completely indecent, scandalous wreck. In front of this…this hooligan too!

She hastily snatched the jacket back towards her and slid it on, welcoming the protection and warm it provided. Without another word she joined Ichigo on the horse and settled in behind his back, praying he wouldn't look back and see her blushing like some shamed child. The nutcracker clicked his teeth and the horse started forward, rocking her much more gently compared to the night before.

This time they rode in silence, as Rukia was still too caught up in her embarrassment to focus on her barrage of questions. They could wait a little longer, she figured. It was still too early, and she had never really been a morning person. Absentmindedly the duchess fiddled with her too long sleeves, her fingers barely reached the area that would cover his elbows. Considering that the coat swallowed her whole, she must look ridiculous.

However, as she snuggled into the coat, she could not deny how grateful she felt. _It would seem_, she thought, a smile tugging the corners of her chapped lips, _that this ruffian actually has some manners_. Rukia recalled his flustered blush and couldn't help but smirk. The boy obviously didn't have much experience with women. Perhaps this…trip of hers would prove rather amusing at least.

_Maybe_.

* * *

The midget was going to drive him insane, he knew it.

Ichigo kept his eyes locked on the snow covered trees in front of him, resisting any and all urges to glance back at the black haired vixen situated behind him. Really, it was way too early in the game for her to be _this _much trouble.

_It's always the tiny ones_, he thought with a grimace as he thought of his little sister Karin and his spitfire childhood friend Tatsuki. They too were petite terrors that had given him a lot of grief throughout his life. Though, they hadn't nearly caused him as much trouble as Rukia Kuchiki.

The carrot-top couldn't blame her for all her questions. After all, he had been plenty confused as well his first visit to Soul Society, and he actually had known what was going on. Rukia had been tossed head first into this mess, and, he frowned at this, the duchess shouldn't even _be _in this chaos.

His mind wandered back to last night when he laid her in the tree hole, her pale face so serene and relaxed. For such a little abusive hellion she could pull off innocent terribly well. And then this morning, just seeing her fragile little form wrapped in his coat that hung just past her knees…Ichigo shook his head distractedly.

The nutcracker was just glad that his first impressions of Rukia were wrong. Despite looking so glass frail and delicate, the girl actually carried strength, a fearless elegance that made her seem more capable then she probably was. Even her voice caught him off guard, surprisingly deep and smoky smooth compared to the light and musical tones most girls her age had perfected. She seemed smart and quick on her feet, and though it was his duty to protect her (and damn him if he failed) Ichigo was glad the duchess had some ability to take care of herself.

He shifted restlessly in the saddle, longing to stop and work away all the subtle aches and stiffness that still clung to his muscles. The one thing he hated about his nutcracker form was his inability to move, and given how long he had been trapped in the Real World he was still feeling it. Ichigo scowled at the thought, damn Urahara for keeping him there for so long. The toymaker knew damn well it was better for everyone if Ichigo just remained in Soul Society. _Unless he sees no point in putting off the inevitable_, he thought darkly.

The nutcracker rolled his eyes back towards the duchess, discreetly checking her contemplative profile. Perhaps this was his last mission after all and-Ichigo stiffened as his gaze locked with hers. Had she been staring at him?

"What are you looking at?" he snapped, unsure why he suddenly felt so defensive. Her strange violet eyes flashed with displeasure and her back straightened tightly.

"Absolutely nothing!" she shot back, glaring hotly at the passing trees. Then, as swiftly as her anger had flared, it cooled as her shoulders slumped. "You just look like someone I know," she said coolly. Ichigo relaxed too, a little apologetic for reacting so harshly.

"It's rude to stare you know." She snorted.

"I know that idiot. It's just…" she hesitated, "the similarities between you and…this person are uncanny." Rukia lowered her eyes, gnawing on her bottom lip nervously. Ichigo quirked an eyebrow, a little curious but willing to respect her space. He wasn't exactly gung-ho about sharing his past either. Even though he had been accused of having the emotional understanding of a fly, he knew to respect her privacy.

They fell into silence, and Ichigo took that as a sign that she didn't want to talk any longer. The duo settled into a hush once again, the only detectable noise the soft clump clump the horses' hooves made in the snow.

"How long have we've been riding?" Rukia asked. Ichigo glanced at the sky, brow furrowing as he tracked the suns path.

"About two hours," he said, "we don't have much farther to go." _I think_. He didn't mention that he was unfamiliar with this part of the woods, that everything was unidentifiable in the snow, and his memory was a little hazy. On top of that, he wasn't even sure if they were on the right path. Given her abusive tendencies, the nutcracker hoped Rukia wouldn't find out. For someone so tiny she was freakishly strong.

"Where are we going again?" Ichigo resisted an aggravated sigh; he explained this last night! Was she purposely acting annoying?

"We're headed for Seireitei. There are people there who will are better able to explain what's going on, and it's safer." Ichigo knew the pendent's visible disappearance was not supposed to happen. It made the situation trickier. How he knew this, he was unsure, but nothing could change the gnawing pit that formed when he first caught sight of the silvery tattoo etched into the noble's skin. His original mission had been to deliver Rukia safely to the current King or Queen and let him or her determine the next course of action.

However…Ichigo chanced another glance back at the raven haired beauty, things were no longer so simple, and the nutcracker wasn't willing to just cast Rukia into the hands of fey bureaucracy.

"And you do know how to get us there, correct?" Ichigo's eyebrow ticked in irritation.

"Of course I do!"

"Then why have we passed that same tree for the fifth time!" Rukia angrily pointed at a nondescript tree whose trunk spilt in two half way up.

"How the hell can you tell?! Everything looks the same," Ichigo retorted.

"Of course everything looks the same, that's because we are going in circles you idiot!" Rukia snapped, arms waving wildly in the air to convey her frustration. The nutcracker halted the stallion, twisting in the saddle to get a better look at their surroundings. His amber eyes caught sight of numerous horse tracks both behind and in front of them.

_Damn it!_ He cursed inwardly. He _had_ gotten them lost. The midget wasn't going to let this go. Ichigo tuned out the duchess' raving as he tried to regain his sense of direction. Above them, the sun was moving at a westward pace, the same direction of Seireitei. _But other than that, I have no idea where we are_, Ichigo thought grimly.

At least they were going in the right direction.

The nutcracker didn't think that would placate the fuming girl at all.

He was right. Ichigo did feel a little guilty, after all, not only were they both tired, cold, and filthy, but Rukia was probably hungry as hell too. Getting lost in the forest was not exactly ideal for either of them. The nutcracker gritted his teeth in frustration, self-annoyance curling in his chest and settling in like a heavy weight. If only he could goddamn remember…

But the thoughts were hazy. Roads and shortcuts that was once as familiar as family remained hidden from his mind's eye. He glared at the snow; _if it wasn't for all this damn snow_, he thought ruefully, _maybe I wouldn't be having such a hard time_. Denial, his mind shot back, you always had trouble with names too. You just have a crappy memory.

This sucked out loud.

And was she still ranting? His head was starting to pound, his ongoing stress simply worsening the harsh crescendo inside his skull. Abruptly Ichigo slid off the horse, feeling the need to be anywhere but near the Grand Duchess of Hell. Pacing like a madman, the nutcracker considered his options. He needed to concentrate, he needed to get his act together, he needed to get them out of here, he needed to-

"Are you alright?" Someone had cautiously laid a hand on his shoulder, the light pressure working some sort of magic on his taunt muscles as he minutely relaxed. His headache lessoned, and suddenly his tunnel vision cleared. Sharply, Ichigo half-turned and saw Rukia looking up at him. Her face was schooled in a carefully blank expression, but her eyes gave away her worry. A little dazed, Ichigo blinked to clear his vision, inwardly startled that he hadn't noticed the creeping darkness.

Damn it now wasn't the time to lose control.

"Yeah umm," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "just frustrated, that's all." The dark haired noble continued to stare at him, obviously unsure if she should believe him or not. Finally though, she sighed and her small delicate hand slid off his shoulder to fall limply at her side.

"Maybe we should stop for a bit, take some time to clear out our heads," she suggested. The thought was tempting but…

"No. We don't have much time to spare," Ichigo said, running his gloved hand through his hair. Aizen was one smart bastard. Surely he had someone on the inside, someone that was probably looking for them, getting closer every second they stood here pointlessly. He couldn't afford to become lax. Not yet.

"What does it matter if we get there and we are half dead? You seem to be having some trouble keeping awake. The smart thing to do would be to take a short break, maybe even find something to eat," Rukia continued to reason. Ichigo glared at the stubborn girl, what was so hard about listening to him?

"We need to keep _moving_," he stressed. Her violet eyes narrowed and her porcelain face took on a stubborn look.

"Fine," she calmly strode away from him, heading towards a deeper section of the woods. "You stay here; try to remember something in that thick skull of yours while I try to find some food." Irritation and panic seized him. No matter how tough that midget was or thought she was, this forest wasn't a place to wander in alone. Aizen's rats weren't the only creatures they had to worry about.

Ichigo managed to grasp her elbow, tugging her back towards him. However, he misjudged his strength and her weight, and the meant-to-be-gentle tug sent Rukia crashing into his chest. Immediately she began to squirm in his grasp.

"Unhand me this instant!" the noble demanded. Her free hand slapped at his shoulder, as if the action would grant her release. "You rude, boorish, moronic _fool!_" Inwardly Ichigo sighed, realizing that even though she was in pinned and tightly in his grasp, the duchess had won. He was too tired to deal with her right now.

"Just listen alright," he exhaled noisily, "you can't wander off on your own, it's not safe-"

"I can take of myself just fine!" So goddamn stubborn!

"-so if you're that hungry _I'll_ go find something and you can stay here." He ignored her protest, avoiding the venomous glare in her bright eyes.

"No! I'm fine. _You _can stay here, and _I'll_ go find something," Rukia insisted. She began to twist in his arms, futilely struggling to break free. Despite himself the nutcracker smirked, no matter how strong she was he was indefinitely stronger.

"What the hell is wrong with you woman!? I said I'll do it!" Why was she being so damn difficult anyways? Didn't women like to be served on hand and foot or something?

"Let go!"

"No!"

"Now!"

"Damn it I said-SHIT!" Eyes watering, Ichigo hunkered over as he protectively grasped his family jewels, glaring up at the victorious midget who casually brushed her hair back and lazily smirked at him. "You…bitch," he gasped as pure agony radiated throughout his body.

"You brought it on yourself," Rukia sniffed. "Now stay here like a good nutcracker. I'll be back soon." She turned away as she said this, but Ichigo wasn't willing to accept defeat so easily. Pushing the pain aside momentarily, he lunged, catching the duchess' knees and bringing her down into the snow with a surprised "oof!"

She cried in outrage as they began to wrestle, kicking and punching where ever a hit could be made. They were so caught up in each other that the bickering twosome failed to notice the timid presence of an observer standing awkwardly behind a tree. He watched them in frightened interest, not sure what to make of the pretty girl that was painfully pulling the nutcrackers arm backwards as she straddled his back. He never realized humans could be so…feisty.

"Ummm, excuse me. Nutcracker-san, Stranger-san, do you need some help?" he cautiously inched from behind the tree, still unsure if he should involve himself with the fighting couple. Instantly Ichigo and Rukia's heads swiveled towards the new comer, one face painted in embarrassed horror, the other's long and drawn in guarded suspicion.

Ichigo easily rose to his feet, pushing the duchess behind him while drawing his sword. The stranger took a frightened step back, this was going wrong already and he was far from prepared to fight.

"Who are you?" the carrot top demanded, taking a threatening step forward. The stranger, a small youth about thirteen years old, made an alarmed sound and stumbled backwards, falling flat on his rear. "Answer me!"

"Idiot! You're scaring him," Rukia scolded her companion, giving him a light slap upside the head. She pushed the nutcracker aside and moved towards the timid boy, hands held out in a nonthreatening gesture. "I'm sorry about him, it's seems he has forgotten whatever manners his mother taught him." Rukia knelt down so she was eye level with the boy, a smile, that she hoped appeared to be friendly, on her face.

"My name is…" she trailed off as she got a better look at his features. At first glance the boy had looked perfectly normal, but closer inspection revealed he was anything but. His skin was a pale blue, and his frost cover lips were colorless. Frost encrusted his dark blue hair that hung almost down to his chin, making the strands stiff and immobile in the frigid wind. His steel blue eyes were framed by slim, equally dark eyebrows and snow rimmed eyelashes, set in a thin, long face that made his irises look tiny in his wide eyes.

To say she was startled was an understatement, but the Kuchiki took it in stride.

"I am Rukia Kuchiki," she introduced herself. Jerking a thumb at the nutcracker she added, "and that moron is Ichigo Kurosaki." Ignoring Ichigo's indignant splutter, Rukia focused her gaze on the dark blue kimono that adorned the boy's frame. Even though his clothing wasn't any better suited then her nightclothes, the boy didn't seem bothered at all by the cold.

"I-I am Hanatarō Yamada," the boy, she now knew as Hanatarō, replied, relaxing under her friendly character. Slowly he rose to his feet, Rukia followed suit. Hanataro was only a few inches taller than her. "What are you doing out in the woods?"

"We're trying to get to Seireitei." "Don't tell him anything!" Rukia and Ichigo answered at the same time. Whirling around, Rukia glared at the carrot top in exasperation.

"Why not? We could use some help."

"Because he's a Snowflake," Ichigo said. "Those fairies are more trouble than they are worth." His ocher eyes took on a hardened glint as he glowered at Hanataro, who began waving his hands frantically in front of him.

"Oh no! No, please Nutcracker-san I have no ill will towards you! I have heard stories about you and what you have down for Soul Society! I'm not, I'm not like other Snowflakes," he assured them hurriedly. Rukia only stared in confusion; she was unfamiliar with the animosity Soul Society natives held towards their local wintry tricksters.

"So why have you shown yourself? It's not often you cowards come out of hiding," the nutcracker pointed out, ignorant of the admiration Hanataro seemed to have of him.

"I…couldn't help but overhear your…conversation. You are trying to get to Seireitei?" The fairy timidly asked. Seeing that Ichigo open his mouth, probably with a rude comment on his tongue, Rukia quickly intervened.

"Yes. The fool has gotten us lost and we need to get there as soon as possible. Do you know the way?" Hanataro, who had been nervously eyeing the scowling nutcracker, brightened a bit at her question.

"Ah-ah yes I do! I can take you there!" he said eagerly. Feeling extremely satisfied, Rukia turned back towards the nutcracker head lifted high and arms crossed over her modest chest haughtily.

"See? He actually knows the way. We need his help." Ichigo's jaw clenched in irritation, one muscle twitching under the force. For some odd reason, Rukia found the movement fascinating.

"No we don't," he countered, "We probably don't have that much farther to go. Let's just keep moving."

"Actually Nutcracker-san, the city is still about a day and a half away…" Hanataro timidly piped in, wringing his fingers nervously as he watched the carrot tops face darken in annoyance. _His scowl really is as scary as they say_, the Snowflake thought.

"What?! That's it Strawberry! Stop being so mule headed and listen: we will follow Hanataro-san to Seireitei without any complaint from you," Rukia declared. Hanatoro fretfully stood by as the tension between the protector and rescued crackled and sizzled heatedly. The pale teen didn't want them to start fighting (again), but at the same time he did have a sense of self worth.

"Don't call me Strawberry you ungrateful midget! And why the hell should I listen to you?!" Ichigo shot back, grinding his teeth as the girl stalked right into his personal space.

"Because I'm obviously smarter than you, Straaaawbeeeerry," she drawled out his name just to be extra annoying, enjoying as he struggled the clear urge to strangle her.

"Ummm, guys?"

"More like your nose has spent so much time in the sky the lack of air has mad you lose all common sense," Ichigo retorted.

"Nutcracker-san?"

"Excuse me!? Just what does that mean?"

"Kuchiki-san?"

"It means exactly what it means, shortie."

"I am not short you stupid, moronic-"

"PLEASE STOP!" Ichigo and Rukia were pulled from their useless bickering, staring blankly at the Snowflake that they had forgotten was with them. So caught up in their riled up shouting, neither had noticed how they inched closer and closer, practically shouting in the others face. Upon realizing the total lack of space between their noses, the two leaped apart, faces flushed and annoyed. Hanataro hardly noticed; he was simply happy that they were no longer arguing.

"Please Nutcracker-san, I know that my kind has caused much trouble in the past and that some even aid in King Aizen's fight. But I assure you I hold no ill will towards you or any of the other faire. I…I only wish to assist you and Kuchiki-san. I wish to prove that not all Snowflakes are selfish cowards," The blue-haired youth released a shaky sigh as Ichigo focused his full attention on him. The scowl was still there, but less prominent. Hanataro took that as a good sign and continued.

"I'm afraid that I'm rather weak fighter, but I _can_ get you and Kuchiki-san to Seireitei, I promise. And," he added this with a slight smile, hoping it would further convince the stubborn teen, "I am actually a decent Healer. Surely you could use some patching up?" He gestured to the three scabbing wounds on the Nutcracker's cheek.

Rukia glanced her companion, amethyst eyes narrowed and wondering. Her anger had cooled and her glare lessened, now she only hoped that Ichigo would relent his suspicion. She understood it was risky to trust strangers, especially her given that she was so new to this world, but in her gut she sensed that Hanataro was a gentle soul. Unless they wanted to aimlessly wander around, their only choice was to trust this faire.

She had meant to convey this to Ichigo in a more calm and sensible manner, but something about the carrot top just riled up her ire. Around him the Kuchiki mask seemed to melt off, regardless of how hard she tried to keep it in place. It was both highly annoying and unnerving. Just what would her brother think if he had caught her just a few seconds ago…?

"Ichigo…" she said lowly. It wasn't a warning or even a threat, but in meeting his amber gaze, still doubtful but relenting, she knew she managed to make her point this time. He released a harried breath, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

"Alright fine, we'll do it your way for now," at seeing her victorious smile he quickly amended, "but once we get to Seireitei you're gonna have to listen to me." She hmmed lightly, and walked back towards Hanataro to bow formally.

"We gratefully accept your help," Rukia smiled warmly, amused how the Snowflake flushed and clumsily bowed, stuttering over hurried "thank you's" and "my pleasures".

"We've wasted enough time," the duchess then declared, sashaying confidently to the patient horse and swinging back into the saddle. "Lead the way Hanataro-san." Ichigo rolled his eyes but moved forwards, catching the reigns of the stallion. _Give her an inch, and she thinks she's the damn queen of England _he internally groused.

Rukia looked questioningly at the nutcracker when he didn't move to get into the saddle but remained on the ground. "Aren't you going to ride?" Ichigo grimaced at the question as a twinge still ran through his groin. While walking was a bit painful, getting back onto the horse's back sounded agonizing. Those short little legs packed a lot of power.

"I'd rather walk. My legs are cramping," he lied, not daring to look up at her. She hmmmed again, but didn't comment, much to his relief.

"R-right," the Snowflake chimed in, "if you would follow Nutcracker-san," Hanataro turned and began to walk left, completely in a different direction from where they had originally been traveling. Dutifully he guided the horse after him, not happy with the situation, but realizing the same thing Rukia had. Of course, he mused, that didn't mean he would let his guard down.

Not yet.

* * *

Five hours later, when dusk began to paint the sky darkened hues of violet and navy, the trio unanimously agreed to stop for the night. With a display of skill that awed Rukia, Hanataro waved away a small patch of snow, leaving them a circle of dry ground to set up for the night. The shy boy had blushed away her wonder, commenting that even a low level Snowflake like him had basic control over snow.

Of course, that did seem to be child's play once Hanataro brought out his healing magic. Fascinated, the duchess watched with wide amazed eyes as the scratches on Ichigo's face seamlessly sealed together, no scabbing or scars to be seen. And when he moved to heal the bruises on her neck and back, well, the soothing, tingling sensation was more comforting then the warmest bath she had ever taken. Her skin still seemed to prickle with the glow of the Snowflakes power.

Now Rukia huddle close to the blazing fire Ichigo built, hunkered down into the Nutcracker's jacket and enjoying the lazy feeling of a (half) full stomach. Granted, the two rabbits Ichigo caught and skinned coupled with the meager berries she and Hanataro had managed to scrounge had hardly been a feast, but she was too glad to not be hungry anymore.

The duchess tried not to think of the digesting rabbit though, she wasn't proud that she ate her favorite animal. Instead she focused on the oddity that was Ichigo Kurosaki. Apparently, as she discovered, he didn't need to eat; he hadn't felt the gnawing pit of hunger in years. Yet he could still sustain injury and exhaustion. She found this all very interesting, how was it that he only suffered certain human grievances? Rukia was certain he felt pain, but the biting cold of night seemed to no affect him. Just who (what) was he?

The dark haired girl slid her eyes over to his broad figure lurking at the edge of their camp. Despite his initial distrust of the winter trickster, Rukia felt she knew more about Hanataro then she did over savior. _Well_, she amended; _at least I know what species Hanataro is_. Frankly they were both strangers to her, but there was something more reassuring knowing that Hanataro was definitely not human, rather than playing this guessing game over Ichigo.

_In the end though_, she figured, _does it really matter? _While Ichigo was certainly a boorish, hotheaded, fool, he was a man willing to do anything to keep her safe, even though he barely knew her. Rukia wasn't sure how that made her feel, she had been down this road too many times before after all, but she was confident to believe her trust in him was certainly not misplaced. _Ichigo is Ichigo_, she decided.

"Is it exciting to be traveling with Nutcracker-san?" Hanataro's voice suddenly pulled her from her musings. Ripping her eyes from the carrot top's strong back, Rukia met the curious, awe-filled gaze of her other traveling companion. His own navy blue irises were fixated on the Nutcracker's spiky orange head, leaving Rukia very relieved that he couldn't see her faint blush. _How embarrassing to be caught staring so openly at that idiot_, she thought. But the Snowflake didn't seem to notice, and Rukia was thankful for his naivety.

"Exciting is hardly the word I would use," she replied dryly, flicking her gaze back to the glowing fire. The blue haired boy rocked on his heels beside her, frozen face pensive.

"Ah, I suppose for you it isn't. You're not from here, so you really don't know about his reputation." Despite herself, the duchess' interest was piqued. She had the feeling there was a lot about Ichigo Kurosaki she didn't know.

"As what exactly? I had received the impression he was merely a soldier for this Soul Society," she gestured needlessly at the snow hidden ground. Hanataro's face lit up like a newborn star as he moved to his knees beside her, his childlike excitement dancing in his eyes.

"Nutcracker-san is _not _just a foot soldier Kuchiki-san! He's a _hero_," he breathed the word reverently. "He just appeared from nowhere in Soul Society years ago, even now only certain people know much about him. I didn't even know his real name until today." Rukia quirked a slim eyebrow in interest. So this Nutcracker was an enigma to everyone, nice to know she wasn't alone.

"Actually, he apparently played a big role in the banishing of the Rat King Aizen, and even now he has helped us greatly by holding back the Rat King's armies," the Snowflake continued. Aizen. How often had she heard this wretched name but still not learn anything about him? Wasn't this Aizen person the reason why she was here in the first place?

"This Aizen, who exactly is he?" Rukia asked, eyes darkening as she thought of this faceless terror. Hanataro's features visibly tightened in fear, his gaze quickly darted from her face to the lurking shadows.

"He is…he is Soul Society's greatest enemy," he whispered, as if afraid speaking of him would bring the Rat King right to their camp. Hanataro chewed his colorless lip nervously; obviously not keen to continue on. Rukia tried to contain her disbelief. Was this man (or creature) truly that fearsome? To be afraid to even speak of him…

"He's a cold hearted bastard, that's what he is," Ichigo snapped, causing the two to jump as he unexpectedly joined the conversation. His head was turned slightly towards them, but he did not turn around. The duchess narrowed her eyes at him; had he been listening the whole time? "But he's not immortal, and if anyone's gonna kill him, it's gonna be me." The resolve in his voice, it was not a vow drenched in coldhearted revenge or that of a cocky duty bound soldier. It was…Rukia struggled to find the word. There was a level of sincerity to it, a promise.

She didn't know what to make of it.

However his words seemed to a light hope within Hanataro, and she (exasperatedly) watched the boy glow once again with hero worship.

"It is a long story that stretches back many years," Hanataro began again, "as you know, Soul Society is the home of the fae, but it is also inhabited by other sorts of creatures, like demons. Demons prey on the magic of fairies. They roam the night and eat us in order to sate their never ending hunger for power." The Snowflake shivered, his eyes haunted. Rukia wondered if he had ever encountered these evil spirits.

"Ten years ago it was revealed to us that Sosuke Aizen, a beloved and highly respected member of the High Fae Council, had been practicing dark magic in secret. He was trying to gain enough power to overthrow the four Season Kings, so that he could forever rule Soul Society. The things he had done Kuchiki-san…unleashing demons into the Human World to obtain souls, murdering and eating his own kind for their magic…" at this the poor boy's face actually seemed to gain color, and he had to pause and take a shaky breath to steel his stomach.

"He had a large band of followers behind him, and for a while, we truly feared Soul Society would fall. But thankfully the High Summer King Yamamoto had been awake at the time, and with the extra assistance of Nutcracker-san, the High King was at least able to transform them into rats." At seeing Rukia's confused expression, she failed to see how becoming a rat had to do with anything, Hanataro quickly explained.

"Only fairies can perform magic here, and since they are trapped in animal skin the traitors can no longer use it. Unfortunately they were too numerous and strong to completely wipe out, and Aizen and his strongest warriors managed to escape to the Outlands of Soul Society, Hueco Mundo. Since then, Aizen has waged war against us, and it has been a struggle to survive."

"How so? If they no longer have access to their magic, shouldn't it be easier to fight them off?" Rukia asked.

"Che, if only." Ichigo scoffed bitterly. "Beside magic, fairies are much stronger and faster than the average human. Gramp's curse doesn't seem to affect that. Not to mention, even without their powers they're still skilled warriors." Hanataro nodded.

"That, and Aizen was an incredibly powerful faire. It's probable that over the years his own magic has fought against the High King's curse, and he's been slowly regaining them," the Snowflake added solemnly. "And though it's just whispered speculation, some believe that the traitors have become like demons themselves…"

"Gaining power by eating fairies," Rukia finished in horror. She felt a sudden chill settle over her bones. Now she better understood the terror that threatened this world, and somehow her fate had been tied to it. "And what does he want with me?" Ichigo finally turned to them, his face drawn and irritated.

"It's what you have," he said cryptically, eyes sliding down to her chest. Her hand came up to rest where the silver tattoo remained covered. _The necklace? But it's just a family heirloom…_however the warning in his eyes told her it was best not to speak of it with Hanataro around, and she did not disagree. _Best to play some cards close to the heart_, she remembered her Master Ukitake once saying.

"That's why we need to get to Seireitei quickly. I haven't been here for while, and Urahara failed to keep me updated on what's going on. I don't know how far Aizen may have advanced," the nutcracker said grimly. Given the dour look on Hanataro's pallid face, Rukia figured the Rat King had made considerable gain during Ichigo's absence. She did not care for the sudden gloom that penetrated the warmth of their tiny camp. The Kuchiki had always been a woman of action, rather than someone who preferred to sit around and sulk over what was happening.

"Well then," she stood up suddenly, hands determinedly on her hips as she surveyed her companions, "there's no need for us to stay up any later. We can leave at first light tomorrow, so we should rest for now." She padded over to a tree a little ways from the fire, deciding it was better to sleep propped against something rather than on the hard ground. Again.

Hanataro nodded eagerly in agreement and, with a quiet goodnight, walked towards the edge of their camp. As soon as his sandaled feet touched the snow, his figured wavered as it dissipated into hundreds of flakes, silently drifting into a small pile on the ground. Rukia blinked, astonished, at the spot the Snowflake had once been. She wasn't sure if she would ever get use to the 'reality' of magic.

Ichigo, taking her amazement for confusion or alarm, explained, "Don't worry, he'll pull himself back together in the morning." He sat down by the fire and prodded the embers, nodding in satisfaction when the bark made an eager crackle.

"And what about you? Are you going to sleep?" She asked, taking in the dark rings forming under his eyes. The shadows flickered across the tired face, and Rukia was taken aback by how _young_ the nutcracker looked. She believed he was only a year or two older then her, but the responsibility he seemed to carry had made him seem much older.

"I'll be fine," he said shortly. The duchess rolled her dark eyes; she had expected that answer.

"Nonsense," she snorted. "You need rest; you shouldn't go another day without it." Rukia expected him to argue with her, he was such a stubborn moron, but he surprised her. Instead, he huffed and stood from his squatting position by the fire to come sit by her. She frowned but complied when he nudged her over.

"What are you doing?"

"Since I can't stay up and keep guard, I might as well stick close by so no one can steal you away shorty." Rukia harrumphed but chose to ignore the insult.

"Whatever. Just don't try anything funny," she warned him crossly, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over her tiny chest. Ichigo spluttered indignantly. His neck turned an interesting shade of red, she noticed. It clashed horribly with his bright hair.

"Like I'd want anything to do with some abusive devil," he muttered. Once again Rukia ignored him, honestly too tired to bicker anymore. Instead she turned her cold body away from him, and in turn the fire; frowning at the darkness.

The two slowly drifted off into an uneasy slumber, too hyper aware of their closeness to pay much attention to the whispery laughter in the night air.

* * *

Far in the desolate Outlands laid a great white castle. The looming palace seemed to touch the sky, that's how grand its size was. On the flat planes of Hueco Mundo, the castle could be seen for miles. In a wasteland of endless scorching sand and bleached bones, the majestic elegance of the palace seemed terribly misplaced. Should some lost traveler happenstance upon its protective walls, spiraling towers, and wide windows, they would most likely cry with relief at finding such a haven in this forsaken hell hole.

Only to discover this rare gem was nothing more than a bittersweet lie.

Within the stone walls lurked a being more powerful and vile than any demon that lurked outside. For this mighty fortress was the home of the fearsome Rat King Aizen and his cursed army.

Welcome to Las Noches.

Confidently striding through the pristine hollow halls roamed the only non-rodent being in Las Noches: Ichimaru Gin; status: kitsune. His presence in Soul Society was rare (for kitsune normally preferred to terrorize the Human World then bother with their brethren). Par legend goes, he was a creature of spite and trickery. Gin was well recognized for the wide, fox-like smile always stretched over his face, varying in amusement and maliciousness. Though, his two sharp rows of inhuman teeth did nothing to ease those around him.

His face was long, pale, and narrow with a sharp nose and slanted ruby eyes always held in a perpetual squint. In place of human ears was a pair of long fox ears, the same silky silver as his hair, tipped a light purple. A bushy silver fox tail poked out from his plain traditional hakama, a simple white garment (no one knew how many tails the kitsune had for sure, though rumor has it Gin has lost one). Hidden beneath his long sleeves twitched five sharp claws; his bare feet were clawed as well.

Some found this creature handsome in his clever charm and silky words; others shivered at the dangerous aura behind his unnerving grin. Those were the wise ones.

Without knocking, the fox-faced creature entered the empty chamber; unlike everyone else in Las Noches, Gin held that small privilege. He was, after all, Aizen's second in command, among one his top warrior's (aside from the Rat King himself). However, Gin did not let that fact make him overtly cocky or disrespectful. If anything, it was the complete opposite. The king was very powerful, immensely so.

Reverently, he lowered his head before his lord, smile never wavering as the Rat King studied him steadily. "What news do you have for me then, Gin?" Aizen asked in a voice once liquid smooth and gentle timber, now a harsh skin crawling rasp. It was calm, always so unnervingly calm (the bastard probably already knew why he was here), but the kitsune could tell his master was slightly irritated. His claws tended to spasm when he was annoyed with/by something. Gin figured it was Grimmjow's final failure that was irking the king, although neither would ever comment on it.

"Something well worth yer time, Aizen-sama," Gin said easily as his squinted eyes looked back up at waiting Aizen. The sight was just as horrifying as listening to the wretched voice, but the fox remained unaffected.

Upon the regale throne sat a creature that hardly befitted its glory; a Frankenstein-esque creature of man and rodent. Years ago he had held the shameful form of an oversized rat just like his followers. But he was not a man who would idly allow his plans to fall to ruin so easily, and held on to every scrap of his immense magic that he could. Using those precious, precious threads, and with the assistance of human souls, the Rat King built up enough power to progressively fight against old man Yamamoto's curse. However, progress has been painstakingly slow, and, while Aizen's pride loathed admitting it, his remaining magic was still too weak to free himself. He needed another way to release the bindings on his magic.

The traitor had managed to regain his original size, but his body was still as rat-like as that fatal day ten years ago: hulking shoulders barely contained in his shirt, awkwardly bent elbows and knees, and a thick scaly tail. His thick brown coat had been steadily shedding for the past year; in varied spots over his body one could find bald patches of pink shiny skin. His hands and feet were still scaly and clawed, but as of a few weeks ago his left thumb had begun a painful journey back into its normal "human" joint. Aizen's fangs had receded somewhat (not noticeably though), but his face was a quashed visage of rat and man: quivering whiskers in a human-ish face with an ugly shrinking snort (which left him with a warped looking mouth and nose), beady dark eyes, and large rat ears.

This ugly form caused him copious pain and humiliation for the last decade. His vanity led to the banishment of any and all mirrors within Las Noches. As the reversal transformation mangled his appearance the Rat King took up the practice of wearing a hooded cloak rather than his self-appointed crown. His ego seethed for vengeance, but his ambitions fueled him.

He had plans. Such grand, glorious plans that would bring both worlds to their knees. There was too much at stake for him to slink off into the Outlands and bemoan his appearance.

Aizen maintained a bored interest as Gin collected his mental information and continued, "Our Snowflake friends have spotted the girl. She's still in the forest, at least thirty miles from the outskirts of Seireitei. The shield hasn't been erected yet."

"What good fortune that the illusion remains up for us. They can show our rats a way in?"

"Of course, I made sure," Gin smirked wickedly. "It'sa been confirmed as well that the Nutcracker has returned." With the hood down, Gin was able to see the amused eyebrow lift. Typical that the Rat King was more pleased rather than alarmed by the toy's return. His master had such a…queer fascination for the boy.

"I had no doubt in my mind about that Gin. Who else would be able to cut down my Espada?" Aizen rumbled. "But this certainly makes things more interesting; of course Urahara would send his favorite toy to clean up his messes…Do you think he enjoyed his last trip to the Human World?"

Gin's smile widened, all sharp tooth and cruel amusement. "He was gone an awfully long time Aizen-sama. I think he had some trouble."

"What a shame," the Rat King mused with dry sympathy. His soulless eyes flickered maliciously. "Send out and the remaining member's of Seven's party, perhaps they still have some use. Oh and if possible bring the boy back," Aizen ordered.

"Yes, Aizen-sama," Gin bowed and turned to leave, but was stopped by one final order.

"Send Yammy with them. We can't make it too easy for him," Aizen smirked. His loyal kitsune left the chamber to carry out his orders, leaving the Rat King alone with his schemes.

"It's a shame I will never be able to place a face to your name, Rukia Kuchiki," the rat sighed. "However, my plans have been put on hold for long enough. Neither you nor your little toy will impede me any longer."

His terrible laughter echoed off the empty walls, casting an eerie chill to the cursed castle.

If the entire Soul Society could have heard his laugh, all would have trembled.

* * *

**AN: **Ugh, just...ugh. Don't get me started on Feb. What a crap-tastic month. Too much damn shoveling, among other annoying distractions. Now I need to fit two updates in this month, and with Track I have no idea when that will occur, it just has to. I'm aiming for once a month updates right now because, sorry guys, but I do have a life outside fanfic and I can't write all the time (even if I'd prefer to ;D).

So...filler. I'm sorry about that. Gotta get this plot moving somehow ya know. But do not fear! I plan for action next chapter! But hey, I threw in some bad guys here, AND this chapter didn't end with them falling asleep (I just noticed that trend...) so that's exciting right? Right?

Anywho, typical review spiel. Just lemme know what needs correcting: too fast? too slow? Too much IchiRuki fighing? OOC Ichi? OOC Rukia? Lay it on me! (but uh editing, I know it's probably rather shabby this chapter, I rushed again ;)). Thanks!


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